Lost And Reclaimed
by Aussie73
Summary: What if Sam, not Skaara, had been chosen to be host to Klorel? AU story. Rated M for language and various references. Detailed notes in Part 1.
1. Chapter 1

_**Warning**: This is not a nice story, although there is a happy ending. But if anyone's expecting one of my usual fluffy pieces, you're in for a surprise. Bad language, violence, references to drug/alcohol abuse and self-harm. If this ain't your cup of tea, that's cool – don't read it._

_**Category**: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance_

_**Pairing**: Jack and other, Jack and Sam (eventually)_

_**Summary**: Captain Samantha Carter of the US Air Force is selected to be one of the children of the gods._

_**Notes**: We saw that Skaara was freed from Klorel (Pretense) and Sarah from Osiris (Chimera), but never saw how they coped with their newfound freedom … or what they'd done while possessed. Also; Sam seemed to recover pretty quickly from Jolinar – although she was one of the good guys, they didn't know it at the time. So I wanted to explore what might have happened in an alternate universe._

_**Disclaimer**: Don't own 'em – making no money from 'em!_

_**Feedback**: Wanted and appreciated, but no flames please!_

* * *

**Chulak, 1997**

Well … another day. Another stinking cell. Peachy. Jack O'Neill glared around the dungeon after Daniel's wife and the Ra wannabe had left.

"I saw Sha're," Daniel said in shock. "She was …".

Carter pulled him to his feet as Jack made his way through the crowd to them. "If there's a way out of here, I haven't found it yet. But …" – he pointed a thumb over his shoulder – "look what I did find."

Skaara appeared from the crowd, delighted to see Daniel. "Dan-yel! You're okay!" He rushed over to Daniel, and they hugged.

Daniel coughed. "Yeah; I think so." He coughed again and started to sag forward.

Jack steadied him, then eased him down. "Easy, big guy. Welcome back to the land of the conscious."

"O'Neill told me about Sha're," Skaara said.

"Jack, help me," Daniel said desperately. "We can find her again."

"Daniel … don't," Jack said. He addressed his team. "If we can't find a way out of here, the mission's a bust anyway. They seal the 'gate in just over ninety minutes. Come on, Skaara. Let's find our way out of here." He stood up, to find himself facing a huge Serpent Guard. The guard grabbed his wrist roughly and turned it at an odd angle. "Ow!" Jack protested.

"What is this?" the big guy rumbled.

"It's a watch," Jack got out through the pain.

The Serpent Guard's helmet retracted to reveal a dark-skinned face. He looked curiously at the watch. "This is not Goa'uld technology," he said. "Where are you from?"

Jack didn't trust easily, but there was something about this guy … "Earth," he said. "Chicago if you want to be specific," he added snarkily.

The guard cut him off abruptly. "Your words mean nothing," he said. "Where are you from?"

Daniel squatted. "Ah, excuse me," he said. The guard looked down as Daniel drew a symbol in the dirt; a triangle with a small circle at its apex. "This is where we're from."

The guard stared at it for a second, then took his staff, sweeping the tail end of the staff through the dirt, completely eradicating the symbol. He closed his helmet and turned away.

* * *

Jack hoisted himself up to a tiny window, peering out. He dropped back down to the floor, where Skaara was standing, looking out in case any guards noticed. Daniel and Carter watched from a distance.

"So Ra isn't dead after all," Carter mused.

_Ya think?_, Jack snarked.

"It wasn't Ra. It was Apophis," Daniel said.

"Who?" Carter asked blankly.

"Um … it's from Egyptian mythology. Ra was the sun god who ruled the day, Apophis was the serpent god, Ra's rival, who ruled the night. It's right out of the Book of the Dead. They're living it."

Paying little attention to the lecture, Jack and Skaara continued along the back wall, trying to scout out a weak point in the wall or a window that would budge. "We will save Sha're?" Skaara asked.

"I can't promise you anything at the moment," Jack temporized, still checking out the wall.

Skaara grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "But you're a great warrior! We defeated Ra together!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but take a look around here. Look at what we're up against." Skaara just looked at Jack defiantly, and he patted the boy's shoulder. "We'll try," he added.

The dungeon doors opened again and Jack grimaced. This could not be good. He took Skaara aside toward the center of the room. The crowd gathered at the foot of the steps as the Serpent Guards filed in. That big one followed. "Sha'ka ha! Kree hol mel, Goa'uld!" he barked.

"What did he say?" Jack asked.

"They are going to choose," Skaara told him.

"Choose what?" Carter asked.

"Who will be the children of the gods."

The Serpent Guards formed a U-shaped formation, those at the head partially down the steps. A group of Jaffa carried in a gilded, curtained litter, whose occupants couldn't be seen. They set the litter down at the head of the stairs. "Jaffa!" the big guy barked.

The Ra wannabe … Apophis … threw back the curtain of the litter and stepped out, glancing at the crowd before turning back to the litter and helping Sha're step out as well. She stood beside Apophis.

"Sha're," Daniel said. He started forward, but Carter and Jack grabbed his arms and held him back before he could do anything stupid. "Jack; help me, please …".

"Daniel; don't," Jack said. "Don't."

The Serpent Guards descended the stairs into the crowd, moving to stand in two lines to create a protective aisle in the center of the crowd for Apophis and Sha're to move through safely. The big guy spread his arms, moving to the back wall of the dungeon. "Benah! Ya wan, ya duru!" The Jaffa bearing the litter rushed down and into the crowd, shoving people to their knees. "Kneel before your masters!"

Carter and Daniel were shoved down. Jack glanced over at the big guy, catching his eye. He nodded slightly, and Jack knelt. Skaara remained standing, angry and defiant. "Skaara," Jack said warningly.

Reluctantly, Skaara got down on his knees. Several Ra wannabes, all dressed ornately, filed out of the litter, moving down the stairs to look over the prisoners.

"Benah! Ya wan, ya duru! Choose!" the big guy said.

As the first pair started across the floor, one of the litter bearers hurried into their path, holding up a young girl for their inspection. The male gave the girl a cursory glance. "No." The litter bearer immediately tossed her aside, throwing the girl roughly to the floor. Carter winced.

Jack glanced over at the big guy again and was surprised to see a flash of distaste on the stoic countenance. Two litter bearers brought another girl over to the pair. The male looked her over, turning her chin to look at her face. "This one. We choose this one," he said.

The girl screamed and cried as the litter bearers carried her off out of the dungeon.

A second couple came next, surveying the prisoners. As they approached Jack and his team, Daniel shoved past the Serpent Guards, grabbing hold of the male's robe. The guards grabbed him by the arms and restrained him. Jack stepped forward, but stopped as two staff weapons were pointed at him. Oy. This was getting really old.

The male studied Daniel. "This one's passionate," he decided.

"How much would I remember if you chose me?" Daniel asked desperately.

"Daniel, what are you doing?" Jack asked.

"Something of the host must survive," Daniel said, now close to tears.

Jack noticed the mask of indifference drop from the big guy's face as he shook his head. Maybe this guy could help them …

"We choose …" – the male's gaze moved past Daniel to Carter. "Her."

* * *

This had been a bad day.

A really bad day.

Jack sighed and ran his hand through his short brown hair, leaving it sticking up stupidly, then opened the refrigerator. He took out three bottles of beer, handing one each to Daniel and Kawalsky and keeping the other for himself.

"How's … uh … Teal'c doing?" Daniel said uneasily.

Jack could understand Daniel's discomfort around the Jaffa – after all, the guy had personally selected Sha're for implantation. But he was doing his best to make Teal'c feel welcome and Jack was proud of him.

"Okay," he said, "but they're keeping an eye on him." The big Jaffa had come through for Jack after Carter had been taken, but they'd not been in time to rescue the young Captain. And turns out her dad was a USAF Major General. He sighed. That was one conversation he was not looking forward to having.

"He's a prisoner," Daniel said, sucking down his beer. "Call a spade a spade, Jack."

"Okay; so they don't trust him yet," Kawalsky said. "If you hadn't seen what we saw, would you trust him?"

Daniel bit his lip. "I'm not sure I do trust him," he said quietly. "I know the Jaffa have been enslaved by the Goa'uld for centuries, but …". He shrugged. "He helped Apophis take my wife. That's gonna be hard to forgive." He belched and threw the empty bottle with surprising accuracy into the trash can. "Got any more of those, Jack?" he asked.

"Sure." Jack shrugged. The guy was a cheaper date than his wife – crap; make that soon to be ex-wife – so figured he'd only lose a couple beers. "Help yourself, Daniel."

"Ya know; I kinda feel bad about giving Carter such a hard time when we first met," Kawalsky said. He chuckled. "But she sure stood up for herself."

"Yeah," Jack said. He hadn't known the young woman long enough to form a lasting impression of her, and part of him regretted that. There'd been a spark to her – something in her feisty attitude that had appealed to his more cynical nature. "Never match wits with a PhD, Kawalsky," he said.

"And she was pretty cute, too."

"Is cute, Kawalsky," Daniel said, sucking on his second beer. "She's not dead, d'you hear me?" He closed his eyes. "They're not dead."

"We'll get them back, Daniel," Jack promised. "I don't know how, and I don't know when, but we'll get them back."

* * *

Klorel stretched his new host's slim body, appreciating the supple youth and warrior tones. The fact that it was a female had surprised him, but he'd had a female host once many hundreds of years ago and knew that they could be very strong. What they sometimes lacked in physical strength, they made up for in strength of mind; of will-power.

And she was beautiful, too. No Goa'uld wanted an unattractive host. And this Tauri fit the bill for a host nicely. Tall, slim, short light hair, large blue eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. She could have lived a life of luxury as an object of beauty had she been born on one of the Goa'uld-occupied worlds, but had chosen to serve with the Tauri's military forces.

This one was certainly strong, he mused. Even now, he could hear her berating him, calling him epithets in the Tauri language. The Tauri had suddenly become a threat, dispatching his father's enemy Ra with a frightening ease. This Tauri was therefore a perfect choice for a host. She had served with the infamous O'Neill and had studied the Chappa'ai technology extensively. And now … all she knew would be his.

**_Like hell, you snaky bastard!_**, the host raged impotently.

Klorel smiled, then sent a sharp bolt of pain through to the young woman's head. She screamed silently, falling to the ground. **_Be careful, my dear_**, he warned her. **_I will not be so tolerant of further impudence – and the pain that a Goa'uld can inflict on the host is unimaginable._**

**_Go to hell_**, she uttered softly, her resistance fading away with her consciousness.

Klorel was pleased at her capitulation, but did not fool himself into believing that it was permanent. It would take him a long time to break her, but break her he would. Samantha Carter would be no more …

* * *

**Tollan Homeworld, three years later**

**After the Triad**

Samantha Carter curled into the chair the Tollan Narim had offered, waiting for the Tok'ra. Thanks to Klorel, she knew exactly what the Tok'ra were – that they were a faction of the Goa'uld that had rebelled against the System Lords more than two thousand years earlier.

She also knew that they'd developed the technology to free a host from the symbiote without killing the host, although they hadn't done it too often. But she was more than willing to play guinea pig if it meant she'd be free of this parasite.

Free! She would be free. She could barely comprehend the concept after three years trapped inside her own body; watching helplessly as her mouth spat words of hatred and war, as her hands maimed, tortured and killed …

The door opened and her body hummed in response to the sensing of naqadah. "Come in, Teal'c," she said. She'd met the shol'va more than a year ago – when they'd attempted to halt Apophis's invasion of Earth and she vaguely remembered him being there on Chulak.

The door opened further, and Colonel O'Neill stood there. "Not T," he said. "Is this a bad time?" He looked uneasy.

"It's fine, Colonel," she replied. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, anyway.

"Cool." The tall Colonel came over to her, hands plunged deep into his pockets.

"Have a seat, sir," she said politely, watching him as he sat down with a sigh. He'd changed a lot since she'd last seen him. The hair had gone a steel gray and stuck up madly, and he'd lost some weight – but he looked strong and fit. And … quite handsome too, she acknowledged. "Thank you, sir, for coming," she said.

He shrugged slightly. "We don't leave people behind, Carter," he said.

She gulped, feeling the beginning of tears. "It's me," she said. "It's me," she repeated.

Jack smiled at her. "Much better," he said.

She looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "I'm … free," she whispered.

"Yep," Jack said. He patted her shoulder gently, then gasped as her slender arms enclosed him in a fierce hug, her head dropping to his shoulder as she cried some more. "Hey; it's okay," he soothed awkwardly, stroking her hair.

She shook fiercely. "No, it isn't," she said. "For years, I've dreamed of being free. And now that I am … what do I do? There's nothing on Earth for me; I tried to destroy my home!"

"That wasn't you, Captain," Jack said. "You were trapped in there, forced to watch." She looked at him and he took her shoulders. "I know, Captain," he insisted. "I know."

She looked at him. He didn't just understand – he knew. "You were a host, sir?" she said.

He grimaced. "Twice," he admitted. "Picked up a hitch-hiker on Nasyia about a year ago – thank God for Cassie."

"Cassie?"

He shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "A little girl we found abandoned on P8X 987. All her people died off thanks to some snake-head, so the Doc adopted her. Anyway, she'd been engineered by the snake to destroy our 'gate, and she can sense naqadah."

"I see," Sam said, reflecting that at least he was helping her forget her own troubles – if only for a brief time. "And what happened? Obviously you still don't have the symbiote."

"Nope," the Colonel said. "The snake was a Tok'ra called Jolinar and she jumped into me to hide from the Ashrak. But she ended up dying to save my life after the Ashrak found her. Then …" – he coughed – "a few months later, we met some Tok'ra. We've got a kind of alliance with them, but they don't trust us and we don't really trust them."

"And the second time …?" Sam pressed.

The grimace was pronounced now. "Hathor," he stated in a tone of sheer loathing – one that resonated within Klorel. The two had been enemies for a long time. "Couple months ago, she tried to snake me, but one of her people was a Tok'ra and put me on ice." He grinned slightly. "I killed her snaky butt, by the way."

The door opened once more and Sam felt the distinct hum of the naqadah in her system. "The Tok'ra?" she asked the Colonel.

"Hope so," the Colonel replied. "We sent Zippy and his kids packing."

Two Tok'ra – a male and a female walked in and Sam gasped. "Oh, my God," she said. "Dad?" Her father had joined the Tok'ra?

"Sammie!" her father said, abandoning the woman and hurrying over to the couch. He drew Sam up and hugged her strongly. "God; I thought we'd lost you forever, baby!" he said.

Sam felt the stupid tears spring to her eyes once more. She and her dad had never had a great relationship. She'd blamed him for her mother's death and they'd only gotten more distant as the years went by. "Daddy," she breathed, her arms going round him. "What are you doing here?"

Her father patted her back. "It's a long story, kiddo," he said. "I'll explain later." He held up a jar. "Right now, Garshaw and Selmak need to get that creature out of you."

He dipped his head, then his eyes flashed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Samantha," the Tok'ra inside her dad said. "Jacob has mourned your loss deeply. I am Selmak of the Tok'ra and this is my colleague, Grand Counsel Garshaw."

The woman dipped her head. "Samantha," she said, then turned to Colonel O'Neill, who'd gotten up politely. "Colonel," she added a little more warmly, planting a kiss on each cheek. "It is good to see you again."

He gave a short cough that sounded like a cat with a hairball and stuffed his fists into his pockets. "Yeah; you too, Garshaw," he said. "Hey, Jake," he added to her dad.

Her dad's head dipped, then he smiled wryly at the Colonel. "Jack," he said. "How's it going?"

"Great," the Colonel said. "Dropped a coupla pounds, got a new Simpsons boxset to watch, and we've managed to free someone from the snake-heads." He grinned, but his soft brown eyes were warm with friendship for the older man. "Pretty good day, all in all."

"Yeah," Jacob Carter agreed.

* * *

**One week later**

"Well, welcome to Casa O'Neill," the Colonel said, opening the door to his house. "It's not a palace, but … it's pretty nice."

Sam walked into the small house. Lots of hardwood flooring, an open fireplace and simple sturdy furniture. After the ostentation of the Goa'uld palaces and ships, this was a welcome change. "It's lovely, sir," she said, her hand tightening on the strap of her duffel.

She followed the Colonel's tall form through the kitchen, glancing at the mess of take-out containers on the table. "Yeah; I wasn't exactly expecting company," O'Neill grumbled, gathering up the debris and shoving it into the trash can. "C'mon; let me show you your bedroom."

He ushered her into a small room, decorated in the same simple good taste as the rest of his house. More hardwood, soft curtains fluttering in the evening breeze, queen-size bed with a dark blue comforter. It was … restful, and Sam sighed. "Thank you, sir," she said.

"Welcome." He grinned, then pointed to a door. "Shower and tub in there," he added. "You wanna get washed up before dinner?"

She shook her head, surprised when a large yawn engulfed her. "I'm not hungry, sir," she said sleepily.

"You want to bunk down?" he asked, striding over to the bed and pulling down the comforter with a flick of his wrists.

"That'd be nice," Sam said. She yawned again, then put her duffel on the chair.

The Colonel hesitated, then dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Night, kiddo," he said, then headed out of the bedroom.

Sam changed quickly for bed, then got in under the covers, drawing them up under her chin. Her eyes popped open. _Great. _Now that she was in bed, she was wide awake. She sat up and curled her arms around her knees, hugging them closely to her chest.

She was a little overwhelmed at how rapidly her life had changed. After Triad more than a week ago, her dad and Garshaw had removed Klorel. They'd spent a few days together on Tollana, before the two Tok'ra were recalled to their homeworld.

She'd also gotten to know SG-1 as fellow humans, not as enemies of her father … not her father; Klorel's, she reminded herself. Daniel wasn't quite as wide-eyed and naïve as she remembered, but realized this was likely due to the fact that Sha're/Amaunet had died several months ago. But he was a nice, gentle man with a strong intelligence and a good heart.

Kawalsky could be an irreverent jackass, but he made her laugh with his pithy commentary on anything and everything. Teal'c – the Jaffa – was definitely the strong silent type, but he was visibly pleased that she was free from Klorel. Doctor Fraiser … now, she liked her. Easily six inches shorter than Sam, she had Narim wrapped around her tiny fingers … and Kawalsky too, if Sam wasn't mistaken. Colonel O'Neill called her a Napoleonic power-monger, but he did it affectionately. They were a close team.

And as for the Colonel …

Enigmatic, sarcastic, charismatic – a whole host of other words that ended with '-ic'. He was an obdurate foe and a gentle friend. A trained killer and a child magnet. And very intelligent – despite the 'dumb fly-boy' image he liked to project. Whilst he had no patience for what he called 'techno-babble', he had a genius for strategy and a gift for cutting right through the crap.

* * *

Sam woke up, her heart pounding, as the memory faded away. Her dad and Garshaw had warned her that she'd likely experience flashbacks for a long time, but that they'd fade with time. She sat up and pushed her hand through her hair, looking around the Colonel's bedroom. That – more than anything else – helped remind her that she was finally free.

But a good night's sleep wasn't going to happen for a long time yet. She got out of bed dressed in Air Force issue sweats and a cropped gray tank top and decided that a snack was in order. She padded quietly to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, almost drooling when she saw the huge slab of cake. Bidding goodbye to her waistline, she grabbed the plate and sat down at the table, fork at the ready.

"A-ah! Lay one finger on that cake, Carter, and you're a dead woman!"

She jerked around to find the Colonel standing at the doorway, his arms folded, his chest bare and his gray hair sticking up stupidly. "Sir?" she said, putting on her best big-blue-eyes innocent look – the one her dad had never bought.

The Colonel didn't buy it either. He snagged a second fork and sat down next to her, digging into the cake. "My house," he mumbled around a large mouthful, "my cake. I eat first."

"Yes, sir – of course," Sam said, grinning slightly at the older man.

He returned the grin. "Are you mocking me?"

"Who; me, sir? Never," Sam said. He had a nice smile, and it was a shame he didn't show it more often. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen until it came to rest on a photograph. It was of a slightly younger O'Neill dressed in civvies with his arm around a young boy in a baseball uniform. Both sported wide joyful – matching – grins. She'd known he was divorced, but she hadn't realized he had a kid. "What's your son's name, sir?" she asked.

He took in a deep breath. "Charlie," he said in low tones.

"Wow, sir; we've spent the last week practically in each other's pockets. I never even knew you had a son," she teased lightly. Colonel O'Neill was not the most open of men – years in Special Forces had likely done that to him.

"He's … not alive anymore," the Colonel said. "He died just before the first Abydos mission."

"Oh, God … that's horrible," Sam breathed. She put her hand on the older man's tense forearm and squeezed it. No-one should have to outlive their children.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I've … learned to live with it." He patted her hand. "And thanks."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For not saying 'I'm sorry'," he replied. "People always say that when they find out about Charlie – like it's their fault or something. It bugs me."

"They probably don't know what to say," Sam said. "My mother died when I was thirteen," she confided. "I got the same useless platitudes."

He looked at her thoughtfully, and she was surprised to feel herself blush at the intensity of his brown eyes. No man should have eyelashes that long – it just wasn't fair.

Breaking the contact, she dug her fork into the cake and brought the luscious morsel to her lips. Her eyes closed. Chocolate … the most heavenly substance ever. "God; I'm in heaven," she breathed. "Did you make this, sir?" she added, opening her eyes.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "It's one of my sadly few gifts," he said with a shrug.

Sam was impressed – she could barely boil an egg and her kitchen table was piled high with take-out menus. Damn it; had been piled high. She no longer had her table, her kitchen or her house. She was still a non-person as far as the Air Force was concerned, and her brother would have accepted her death by now and gone on with his life.

All of a sudden, she wasn't hungry, but did feel the need to cry. She gulped, determined that she wasn't going to soak the Colonel's shoulder again.

"Carter? You okay?" the Colonel asked softly.

"I'm fine, sir," she said. "Just not as hungry as I thought I was." She patted her trim stomach in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Got to keep slim, you know."

"Oh. Well, that's a good thing," he said. "It wouldn't be good if you got fat."

"Sir?"

He grinned. "Yeah," he offered. "If you got fat, you'd never wear that sweet little tank top number again," he added, gesturing to her gray top.

She blushed again, then laughed. "I think I'll go back to bed," she said. "Good night, sir."

"Night, Carter," he replied.

* * *

Jack watched as the younger woman padded out of the kitchen, his gaze resting on the pale skin displayed by that little tank top. It was a pretty sweet number, but he'd made the comment mainly to make her laugh.

Even with his experiences with Jolinar and Hathor's little pet, he couldn't begin to understand what she was going through. He still didn't understand why he'd offered her his spare room, but he knew he didn't like the idea of her living on base. It was going to be hard enough for her to adjust without feeling like she was always under surveillance.

He absorbed another mouthful of the cake, then grimaced. Now he wasn't hungry. He got up and shoved the cake back into the refrigerator, then slammed the door shut. Then cringed as he remembered his guest. She was already having trouble sleeping without him banging around. "Sorry, Carter!" he called.

"It's okay, sir," he heard her mumble sleepily from the guest bedroom. "Sleep's for losers, anyway."

He snickered at that. Sarcasm – he was so proud. "Night, Carter," he said once more.

"Night, sir."


	2. Chapter 2

The mighty warrior Klorel surveyed the planet from his position at the peltak. It was prime for exploitation. Heavy deposits of naqadah and plenty of slave labor – his father would indeed be pleased. With a curt nod to his First Prime, he ordered the immediate deployment of his Jaffa troops to subjugate the planet's inhabitants.

With an ease born of much practice, he ignored the host's indignant railings at his actions. He'd never been able to fully subjugate her – much to his unwilling respect – but he'd learned to ignore her. And, truth be told, she amused him. Precious little in his existence amused him, and he therefore took his pleasure where he could.

Whilst the host raged impotently, Klorel strode off the peltak and to his bed chamber, summoning his lotar. Benar was a young man – had only lived twenty of his homeworld's rotations – but had served Klorel well for two years and his father for three years before that. He was loyal and trust-worthy; intelligent, but not overly so.

Benar appeared within seconds, dipping his head. "My Lord," he said.

"I have learned that the Tauri have asked to be included in the Protected Planets Treaty," Klorel said. "Cronus, Nirrti and Yu have gone there to negotiate with the Asgard."

"My Lord?" Benar sounded puzzled, as indeed he should, Klorel reflected. It was not common for a lotar to be taken into confidence about the inner workings of the System Lords.

"My father believes it to be a foolish notion – I agree with him," Klorel continued. He watched the young man carefully. "You are descended from the Tauri – what do you think?"

**_As if he's going to disagree with you!_**, the host commented scornfully. **_He values his life._**

Benar considered carefully. "They have angered many of the System Lords in the last two years, My Lord," he said cautiously. "Perhaps they now finally realize that the Gods should be taken seriously."

_**Gods, my ass!**_

"Hmm, perhaps," Klorel said, waving a hand languidly. That had not occurred to him, and he was glad that he had asked Benar's opinion.

"But the Tauri are … wily," Benar continued. "And they do not share our belief in the supremacy of the System Lords." He frowned slightly, then took a deep breath. "I would not trust them, My Lord and … I do not believe you do, either. I am surprised that the System Lords agreed to this negotiation."

"You question the actions of the System Lords?" Klorel was angry at this. "I could kill you where you stand for such blasphemy!"

"Yes, My Lord," Benar said, dropping his head, then raising it. "But you asked for my opinion."

"And you gave it," Klorel said. "It is always good to know where one stands," he added softly. He aimed the ribbon device at the young human's head. "Unfortunately, you will not stand much longer." He concentrated and the power shot through the device into the lotar's head.

After several seconds, Benar fell to the ground, quite obviously dead. Klorel frowned and summoned two slaves. "Take that away," he said, kicking at the dead lotar.

* * *

Sam sat up in bed, the young lotar's surprised face burned into her memory. "God …". She shuddered and got out of the bed, knowing that sleep wouldn't come again that night.

It had now been over a month since the Triad – three weeks since her return to Earth – but things weren't getting any better. Her sleep was interrupted constantly by horrible memories and her appetite was non-existent. When the Colonel was around, she forced some food down but he couldn't be there 24-7.

And he and SG-1 were currently off world visiting a planet called Edora. They'd been gone nearly two weeks – a pretty long time for a standard reconnaissance mission. She suspected something else was going on, but she didn't have the clearance to find out.

She headed into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet, looking thoughtfully at the bottle of sleeping pills Doctor Fraiser had prescribed. She really didn't want to start popping pills, but if she didn't get a decent night's sleep soon, she was going to lose it.

Fraiser had warned her that depression would be likely. Sam hadn't believed her. "That won't happen, Doctor; trust me on that," she'd responded skeptically.

Fraiser had been very patient. She explained that it was a matter of neuro-transmitters. The Goa'uld had produced a chemical that suppressed the production of serotonin in her body, while acting as a substitute. Now the Goa'uld was gone, and her serotonin levels would take time to get back to normal.

"She's right, Carter," the Colonel had said. He frowned. "After Jolinar died, I had to go on SSRI's for a coupla weeks, and she'd only been in me a few days. You've had that snake for nearly three years."

"I'll be fine," Sam had insisted stubbornly. She was overjoyed to get rid of the parasite that had stolen her life. She sure as hell wasn't going to mourn it!

With a quick decisive motion, she opened the bottle and dry-swallowed a tablet. It was so tiny, and she was so exhausted … She took another one, then quickly shoved the bottle back into the cabinet.

She headed back into the bedroom and stretched her hand out to the bookcase. It was filled with the Colonel's eclectic collection of books and journals. She'd been pleasantly surprised to find that he was something of a star lover. Whilst he didn't pretend to understand her field, he was quite good at astronomy and – much to her shame – knew far more about the constellations than she did. She saw the science; he saw the beauty.

She plucked out an old astronomy journal and began leafing through the pages with an occasional yawn. Huh; maybe these tablets were better than she thought!

* * *

She woke up much later, her head heavy but nightmare free. That was a fair trade to her mind. She looked at the clock and realized she'd actually slept for sixteen hours. "Gotta love those little pills," she mumbled to herself.

She got out of bed and padded into the shower, deciding she should celebrate her first good night's sleep by actually leaving the house. She didn't know Colorado Springs too well – had only lived there for a week before the first Stargate mission – so it was probably time she had a look around.

The shower cleared the residual fuzziness from her head and she wrapped a large towel around her body as she scrubbed at her hair with a towel. The telephone rang and she frowned, debating whether or not to let the answer machine pick it up. Yep; she would. She'd had four calls from tele-marketers just yesterday.

"Hi; you've reached Jack O'Neill's phone," the Colonel's recording said. "You know what to do." There was a pause. "And if you don't, then you're too dumb for me to call you back." _Beep_.

Sam snickered at that. Considering his own dumb act, the Colonel had no tolerance for stupidity. There was a silence on the other end that seemed … nonplused, then: "Colonel O'Neill; this is Debbie from MasterCard. We are pleased to offer you a $25,000 line of credit. If you wish to accept this offer, please contact us on 1-800-745-7239. Thank you."

* * *

"Fair day, Jack," Laira greeted him. "Walk with me."

Jack got out of the canoe he'd built. "You wouldn't like my company right now, Laira," he said. He grimaced. "Hell, even I don't like my company."

She held out her hand to his and drew him up onto the bank. "Walk with me, Jack," she said softly. "You miss them," she added, tucking her hand through his arm.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess I do."

He'd been stuck on this planet for nearly a month now and was about ready to pound on someone in his frustration. It was surprising how homesick he was. He missed Teal'c's sly humor that he tried to keep hidden, he missed Daniel's mile-a-second conversation. He missed Kawalsky's wry quips and he even missed Napoleon and her needles.

"Do you have anyone … special waiting for you?" Laira asked.

"Not anymore," Jack replied. "I was married, but we divorced a few years ago."

"Divorced …?" Laira repeated.

"Ah … the legal dissolution of a marriage," Jack said.

"Divorced …". Laira rolled the word around. "It sounds almost pleasant considering it describes an unpleasant process." She rested her curly head on his upper arm as they walked. "And there has been no-one since?"

"No …," he replied cautiously. He didn't count the 'thing' he'd had with Kynthia on Argos.

"After my husband died, I mourned him for one hundred days," Laira continued. "I wouldn't leave the house; wouldn't talk to anyone."

"And after the one hundred days?"

She gave him a dazzling smile. "I left the house. I talked to people." She put her hand to his cheek, then drew his mouth to hers for a brief sweet kiss. "You need to mourn," she told him. "It's the only way you can move on."

Jack was tired of thinking. He slid his hands gently into Laira's hair, then tilted her lips up to his. His tongue slipped softly into her mouth and was met by her own tongue – very warm, very soft, very sweet.

* * *

Sam flicked idly through the TV guide. Damn; 500 channels and nothing worth watching on any of them!

The Colonel had now been gone for over a month, but she'd gotten used to being alone. Since she'd started taking those marvelous little tablets, she'd had a good night's sleep every night. She palmed several of the tablets into her mouth, then washed them down with a sip of whisky, shuddering. She didn't even like whisky, but had found that it helped the tablets work better.

She shook the pill bottle, surprised when there was no rattle. She looked at the label, and was a little ashamed to find that she'd gone through the entire three-month prescription in only a third of the time. But, she reminded herself, she didn't just have nightmares – her visions while dreaming were entirely real. She just needed something to help her cope till her serotonin levels were back to normal, then she could stop taking these stupid things.

But … would Doctor Fraiser give her more pills? Not unless she could come up with a good cover story, she wouldn't. Sam hadn't known the petite Doctor very long, but knew that she had a finely tuned bullshit detector honed from dealing with Colonel O'Neill for over three years.

Maybe, just maybe, she should go and get something over the counter to tide her over for a week or so. Then she would go and see Fraiser and get the real stuff. Maybe … she wouldn't even need it by then.

Decision made, she stuffed her feet into sneakers and grabbed one of the Colonel's fleece jackets. It smelled like his aftershave – spicy, but not overpowering – and she breathed in deeply. _Nice._

* * *

Jack woke up and stretched his long legs, wondering what was tickling his neck. He looked down and saw Laira's curly head tucked into the crook of his neck, her small slim body wrapped around him. _Ah. _He smirked slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the 'guy' moment. It had been a long time since he'd shared a bed with a warm loving woman.

She looked up and smiled sleepily. "Fair day, Jack," she said.

"Fair day," he replied, dropping a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

"Mmmm." She scooched up along the bed, then took his lips in a passionate kiss. "You have no regrets, I trust?" she asked after she broke the kiss.

"About last night – not a one," Jack said.

"Good." Laira wiggled so that she now lay on top of Jack. "I know that you like making love in the night. How about in the morning?"

Things began waking up all over him and he groaned. Laira chuckled. "I see parts of you like the idea very much," she said, ducking her head down to kiss his neck.

Those were the last words they said for a very long time.

* * *

Sam woke up, her head pounding, and groaned. God; she felt like shit. She looked around. And just where the hell was she?

"Morning, Sam," a man said.

Sam yelped and stared at the naked man lying next to her. Fair hair, roundish features and a huge shit-eating grin. "Uh … hi," she said. Who the hell was this guy? And had they done what she thought they'd done?

He gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "Why don't you take a shower?" he said gently. "You can't be feeling very good right now."

Now that she thought about it, she realized that she did feel a bit sore. She closed her eyes and nodded her head. "Okay," she said, then got up and headed into the mysterious man's bathroom. So … thirty two – nearly thirty three – years old, a former Captain in the Air Force and her first time had been a drunken one nighter with some guy she didn't know. Oh, she was just so proud of herself right now!

"Sam?" The man knocked on the door. "There's a spare robe in the closet. I'll go fix us some coffee."

"Thanks," she said, wishing she could remember his name. She turned on the cold faucet and stuck her aching head under it. The shock of the cold water helped clear away some of the hangover and she decided she could risk a shower. Then she'd find her clothes and get the hell out of there before her humiliation was complete.

She stepped into the shower and scrubbed down in typical Air Force fashion – where quick showers were the norm. She carefully avoided looking at her reflection – not wanting to see herself right now. A one night stand. She'd turned into the kind of person she despised.

She choked down the sob that rose up her throat. _Suck it up, soldier!_, she chided herself. _You're not the first person to do something stupid, and you won't be the last!_

Toweled dry and feeling something closer to human, she dressed quickly in the jeans and oversized fleece she'd worn last night. She crept down the stairs hoping that Pete – Pete; that was his name! – wouldn't see her sneaking out.

Seems God had decided to give her a break for now. The stocky young man had his back to her in the kitchen, whistling as he made coffee. She took her chance and slid quietly out of the house, using every skill she'd learned during her time with the Air Force.

Her hands shook as she got out of the street, and she now recalled that she'd intended heading to the drugstore. Instead, she'd bumped into an old friend from the Academy, who'd convinced her to go bar hopping. That was how she'd met Pete.

So … drugstore. She dug her hand into her jeans pocket, hoping that she still had her ATM card. Yes!God bless American Express.

"Captain; hi," Doctor Fraiser said.

Shit. So not getting any more little pills today. "Hi, Doctor," she replied.

"General Hammond asked me to come find you," the petite woman said. "We … have a problem."

Sam closed her eyes. Had Fraiser found out about her running through her prescription already?

"Will you come back to the base with me, Captain?" Fraiser asked.

Maybe she could BS her way out of this. "Of course," she said in the most matter of fact tone she could manage.

* * *

"Good morning, Captain," General Hammond said.

"Uh … good morning, sir," Sam replied, saluting smartly. Even though she was currently listed as off active duty, certain protocols still held.

"I wish I could chat with you a bit more," Hammond said, "but we have a problem. Have a seat, Captain."

Straight to business? She could do that. She slid into the seat he indicated. "Yes, sir."

"Five weeks ago, SG-1 'gated to P5C 768 to establish a trading treaty with the natives for their naqadah," Hammond began. "Several days later, meteors began to impact the world. One impacted the Stargate, trapping many evacuated Edorans here … and Colonel O'Neill on their side of the 'gate." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Our best scientists have theorized that the molten naqadah hardened just above where the event horizon would form."

"Like an iris," Sam said, making the connection quickly.

"Correct," Hammond said. "Wormhole physics; a field you helped pioneer, Captain, states that under these conditions, ordinary matter won't even reintegrate on the other side. There's no way to overcome that." He paused. "As far as we know." He produced several large boxes. "You've been given full clearance to go through all SG team missions from the last three years … if you are willing to be returned to active duty status."

Sam paused. Yes; she wanted to help Colonel O'Neill get home, but she didn't know if she could come back to active duty. "I … don't know, sir," she said.

Hammond's steely gaze softened. "I know you've been through something no-one can imagine, Sam," he said gently. "But right now, we have a missing man. And you are this country's leading expert in astrophysics. We need your help."

Sam immediately felt ashamed of herself. "Of … course I'll help, sir," she said. "I'm only back here because the Colonel was willing to come to Tollana for me."

"Good," Hammond said. He clasped her hand in his. "In that case, consider yourself recalled to active duty, Captain."

* * *

**Ten days later**

"Holy Hannah!"

One of the scientists – a rather nervous dark-haired man called Felger – started and spilled coffee. "C-Captain?" he inquired.

Sam slammed her fist to the table in triumph. "I think I've got it!" she crowed. "It's never been done by any human, but … I have a solution!"

Doctor Jackson walked in at that point. "Hey, Sam," he said with a small smile. "I could hear you whooping from out there. You've come up with something?"

Sam nodded vigorously. "I think so, Daniel," she said. "And I'm not the one who thought of it. Sokar did."

"Sokar?" Daniel squinted at her.

"Yes," Sam said. "I've been reading all the old mission reports – especially the one when he tried to breach the iris by bombarding it with a particle beam. Sub-atomic particles barely small enough to reintegrate produced energy as they decayed."

"Which caused the iris to heat up," Daniel supplied.

Sam nodded her head. The man wasn't an astrophysicist, but he seemed to understand enough of her field to see where she was going with this. "Exactly. Now, if we could do the same thing we could melt the hardened naqadah barrier just above the event horizon and create a pocket of superheated gas."

"And then open the 'gate again," Daniel continued.

"The unstable vortex it normally generates would then be allowed to expand into that pocket and create an even larger cavern. One person might be able to go through, and dig it out."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "I think you can safely assume we'll have any number of volunteers, Sam. But … there's a problem, isn't there?"

Sam blinked. How did this man know her so well so soon? "Yes. We don't have a particle beam generator. We'd have to build one."

"Well, let's go see General Hammond. You need to go break the known laws of astrophysics."

* * *

**Six weeks later**

Sam hissed out a breath as the wiring futzed brightly before the machinery gave out with a painful groan. "Damn," she muttered, dropping her weary head into her folded arms.

She looked up as the door opened and saw Doctor Fraiser enter with a cup of coffee. "Hey, Janet," she said.

"You working through the night again?" Janet asked, passing her the coffee.

"Yeah. Lot of work to do. Thank you." She took a sip of the coffee.

"Look, Sam, there's no doubt you're going to solve this, but you have to accept the fact it's going to take time."

"Yeah, well if I think that way, it could take months."

"Daniel says the Tollan could have a ship in the vicinity of Edora some time next year."

"He shouldn't have to wait that long," Sam argued.

"You miss him," Fraiser mused.

"Yeah," Sam said softly. It was surprising really – after all, she'd only technically known him for a week. But he'd been there for her 24-7 as she'd suffered through the horrible memories.

"Is this a problem?" Fraiser probed.

Sam knew where her friend was going with this. After all, she wasn't in any fit state emotionally to be falling for someone. "No. No, of course not," she said.

"Okay," Fraiser replied and left as quietly as she'd entered.

* * *

**Two months later**

Jack lay contentedly with Laira, their limbs entwined and hearts pounding after some very satisfying love-making. "Wow," he breathed out.

Laira chuckled into his neck. "That is a compliment, I trust?" she said.

"Oh, yeah …," Jack said. The door opened and Garan came in. "Shit!" Jack yelped, dragging the covers hastily over him and Laira. "Did no-one ever teach you to knock, kid?" he barked.

Garan – give the kid his due – went scarlet and couldn't look at them. "Uh … sorry," he muttered. He waved Jack's BDUs at him. "Teal'c and Daniel have come back through the 'gate."

Jack sucked in a deep breath. Home. He was going home? Then he looked at the beautiful woman now sitting next to him, the covers wrapped modestly around her slim shoulders. "Laira …," he began awkwardly. God, he was crap with words.

She smiled. "It's all right, Jack," she said. "I had the feeling this day would come." Garan left the room and she twined her fingers with his. "I'll miss you," she said.

"Come with me," Jack said.

Laira shook her head. "I belong here," she said.

"I'll come back. Soon," Jack promised, getting out of the bed and dressing in his long-abandoned BDUs. "We still have that treaty to talk about."

"Of course. Our two worlds are going to be friends." She got out of the bed and wrapped her arms around him in a sad embrace. "Closer friends," she added. "Fair day, Jack. And … be well."

"Fair day, Laira."

Jack left the little house before he could change his mind and headed in long strides to the Stargate and his friends. He saw Teal'c's massive form first. "Hey, T!" he said.

"O'Neill," the big Jaffa said with a small smile. "It is good to see you again."

"You too, buddy," Jack said, unable to help the large stupid grin that split his face. "Daniel," he greeted his favorite archeologist next. "You are stubborn SOBs, ya know that?"

"Jack," Daniel said with a pleased grin. He tugged at someone standing just behind him. "But it's Sam you have to thank. She's the one who rewrote the laws of physics."

"Carter." Dressed in green BDUs, her hair cropped like when he first met her, she looked pale and tired, her blue eyes huge in a thin face. But … she still looked good. "Thank you … it's inadequate, but it's all I can say."

She flashed him a megawatt smile. "Least I can do, sir," she said. She looked around. "Are you ready to come home?"

"Yeah … I suppose so." He sighed slightly, then clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Dial 'er up, Space Monkey!"

"That's just one thing I haven't missed about you, Jack," the archeologist complained, turning to the DHD and beginning to push the symbols.

* * *

**That evening**

"You're free to go, Colonel," Doctor Fraiser said.

"Finally!" the Colonel exclaimed dramatically, getting off the Infirmary bed with an unflattering alacrity.

"Just remember to keep taking those vitamins," the Doctor added, pushing a bottle of pills into his hand. "Your system's pretty depleted after so many months of hard rationing."

Even Sam – who was no medical doctor – could see that. While never a big man, the Colonel had definitely dropped a few. He was pure lean muscle – likely garnered from the agrarian lifestyle of the Edorans. Some of his hair had turned a rather nice silver and he was deeply tanned as well, much to her envy. Her pale skin just burned.

"Uh … Colonel; I took the liberty of stocking up your cupboards," she said now, handing him his house and car keys. "There's also a full tank of gas."

He nodded. "Thanks, Carter," he said. "Can I offer you a lift?"

"Oh, that's okay, sir," she demurred. "I've got some things I want to work on – I'll sack out in my quarters." The idea of going back to her apartment didn't appeal – after spending so much time at the base the last few months, her apartment would be much too quiet.

"Okay." He spun the key chain on his index finger. "So … any idea what your posting will be?"

She smiled. "Don't know yet," she replied. "SG-13 need a scientist. Then again, I think I may stay on base a while longer." The truth was, she was a little scared to go through the 'gate again. It had taken all her courage just to step through to a peaceful known planet like Edora – never mind going exploring.

He regarded her with those piercing brown eyes. "Well, it's your choice, Carter," he said. "Personally; I think you'll be wasting your talents sitting in the lab." He gave her a cheeky grin. "That huge honkin' brain of yours needs a challenge!"

She smiled slightly. "I think rewriting the laws of physics just the once will do it for me, sir," she said.

"Hah," he mumbled. "You're an over-achiever, Carter – always looking for something new. You'll see. I give it six months of lab time before you're askin' Hammond for a transfer."

Daniel, Kawalsky, and Teal'c entered the Infirmary at that point. "Jack; you want to come to O'Malley's?" Kawalsky said. "Figure we need to celebrate your return to good old Planet Earth."

"Okay," O'Neill said. "Carter? You in?"

"I've things I need to do," Sam said.

"Ah, c'mon," O'Neill pressed. "I may not be your CO anymore, but I'm still a superior officer. And I'm ordering you to get a life."

She chuckled, unable to resist the pleading in his eyes. At that moment, he reminded her more of a spaniel puppy begging for a tidbit than a hardened forty-something Colonel. "All right, sir," she said.

"You want to invite Fraiser?" Kawalsky said. Sam smothered a smile – she just knew the guy had a thing for the petite redhead.

"Sure," O'Neill said. "The more the merrier. Hey, Doc!" he called.

"You're still here, Colonel?" Janet said, coming into the Infirmary from her office. "You usually can't get out of here fast enough."

"We're going to O'Malley's to celebrate my return home – ya wanna come with?"

Janet paused. "All right then, Colonel," she said and went past them, her white coat flapping. "Just give me ten minutes to change out of my uniform." She slipped out of the door, then poked her head back in. "And no hard liquor, Colonel," she warned.

"Napoleon," he mumbled.

Sam blinked. Did he just say that?

"I heard that!" she called from her office.

"Ears like a damn bat," he said in amazement.

"Heard that too, sir," Janet said, now sounding amused.

"Crap …".

Sam giggled – now he looked like the puppy caught piddling on the carpet.

"No giggling, Captain!" O'Neill said, pointing an index finger sternly at her.

She drew herself to attention. "Of course, sir," she replied with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and Janet made their way unsteadily to the bar and leaned over. "Another round," Sam said, flashing her best smile at the young bar-tender.

She looked around O'Malley's. The guys were sitting at a nearby table, waiting patiently for their drinks. She nudged Janet. "Damn; we've got some fine-looking men with us tonight!" she said.

Janet giggled – yep; she was drunk too. "Oh, yeah," she drawled, broadening her usually faint Southern accent.

"Sam?"

Sam turned from her perusal of the guys to look at the intruder. Fair hair, stocky build, about her height. "Have we met?" she said.

He blinked. "It's me. Pete," he said. "We met a while ago at McGinty's." He leaned in slightly. "You never called me back."

Sam laughed shortly. "I think you've got me confused with someone else," she said. "Let's face it; you're not my type." She pointed over to Colonel O'Neill. "See him; the tall guy with the gray hair and the brown eyes? He's my type."

Behind her, she heard Janet coughing wildly. "You okay, Janet?" she asked.

"Yeah," Janet said, giving another cough. She handed some money to the bar-tender and took the tray of drinks. "We've got boys to water!" she said.

"Okay." Sam giggled; she was so drunk right now! "Bye, Paul," she said carelessly.

"Pete," he said.

"Whatever." Sam waggled her fingers and the second tray. "Well, I've heard better lines," she said.

"Yeah." Janet snorted inelegantly. "And when did you develop a thing for the Colonel?"

"I don't have a 'thing' for Jack … the Colonel," Sam said. "But he is a good looking guy. Surely you can see that."

"I suppose," Janet said thoughtfully. "It's just hard to see him that way when I spend a good portion of my time listening to his complaints." She sniggered and the tray wobbled alarmingly. "For a rough tough Special Forces Colonel, he acts more like a five year old in the Infirmary."

"Anyway … what about you and Kawalsky?" Time for the biter to get bit.

Janet went red. "Major Kawalsky?" she echoed.

"Don't play innocent with me," Sam said. "You telling me you and him have never … you know … done the nasty?"

"Done the nasty?" Janet squeaked. "What the hell have you been reading lately, young lady?" Before Sam could reply, she got a dig in the ribs from her much smaller friend. "One word and I'll bring out my special big 'Colonel' needles at your next medical," Janet warned.

"Okay; I'll be good," Sam said meekly, immediately cowed by that threat. Although tiny, Janet was one formidable lady – even without what the Colonel would call her 'huge honkin' needles'.

* * *

"She's certainly not feeling any pain tonight," Kawalsky said, nudging Jack and jerking his head toward the dance floor.

Jack looked over to the dance floor, where Carter was dancing rather sexily with a tall good-looking guy about her own age. "Good for her," he said, lifting his beer bottle in a silent toast to her. "After slaving for weeks on that … what was it again?"

"A particle accelerator, O'Neill," Teal'c supplied.

"Yeah; one of those. She deserves to let her hair down."

Kawalsky sniggered. "I don't think that's the only thing she's gonna be lettin' down tonight," he said.

Jack's eyes narrowed when he saw that another young man had attached himself to Carter. Geez; they were practically having sex right on that dance floor! She was drunk, and those two young jerks were taking advantage of her loosened inhibitions.

He slammed down his beer bottle, then got up and strode over to the dance floor. "Mind if I cut in, Carter?" he asked.

"Sir!" she said, not loosening her grip around the first young man's waist. "I'm kinda busy now; maybe I'll fit you in later." She sniggered, then hiccuped.

"Yeah; take a hike, old man," the second young man said. "C'mon, Sam; wanna go have some fun?"

"Yeah; I'm in the mood for something fun," she purred, turning and placing a hand on each of the young men's asses.

"Carter …," Jack growled. "You're drunk. You're ditching these two yahoos, pouring yourself into a cab and going home … alone."

"Ja-ack," she complained. "Y'know; you might be my superior officer, but we're not at work." She regarded him with unnaturally bright eyes. "Besides; you're the one who told me to get a life."

"You heard the lady, old man," the first guy said. "Get lost, before we break those old bones of yours."

"You can try," Jack said softly. Those two idiots were so not a threat.

Carter seemed to agree. "He's Special Forces," she said. "He could kill you in thirty seconds and leave no trace."

"Yeah; right."

The two young men charged at Jack. He dropped one with a basic roundhouse blow, then pressed the other one up against the wall, cutting off his supply of air with three steely fingers to the windpipe. "Sam's leaving now," he said. "And not with you. Got that?"

The young man – barely able to breathe – could only nod with a wide-eyed panic.

"Excellent!" Jack said in his best Mister Burns impression.

Carter put her hands on her hips. "That wasn't very nice, sir," she said with a childish pout.

"Don't care," he grunted. "Are you leaving or do I haul you outta here?"

Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!" she said indignantly.

He dropped to a knee and grabbed her arm, pulling it over his shoulder. Then he got up, hauling her over his shoulder. "Jack!" she said, kicking out at him.

He swatted her backside, a little surprised to feel the sharp bone of her hip. How much weight had she lost over the last few months? He went over to the guys. "Carter's had enough; I'll see her home, then I'm for bed myself." He yawned widely, feeling the effects of planet lag for the first time in a long time. Then again, it had been a hard day emotionally speaking.

"Uh, Jack …," Daniel said.

"Yes, Daniel?"

The archeologist squinted at him. "You know you've got a Captain on you."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Funny, Daniel," he said. "Night, guys. And Doc, of course."

With a now-still Carter draped over his shoulder, he made his way out of the bar and headed over to a waiting cab. He ducked and placed her on the back seat, then got in himself.

"Where to, buddy?" the driver asked.

He rattled off her address and slammed the door shut as the driver shot off with a screech of tires.

"That was very caveman, Jack," Carter purred as he settled her onto the seat. "Liked the testosterone." She slid her hand up his pant leg to cup his crotch.

"Sam …," he warned, lifting her hand off him.

"Well, you chased away my chance for a ménage a trois" – he was pretty impressed she could even get that expression out. She licked her lips. "The least you can do is have sex with me."

"Carter … you're drunk."

"Yeah?" She eyed him belligerently. "So what?"

"I don't take advantage of drunken women," he said. "Besides, you know I became involved with Laira. I'm not about to two-time her."

"Aw … that's sweet, Jack. But really … how long d'you expect to go without because your little playmate's on the other side of the … world?" She leaned forward and ran her tongue over the scar in his eyebrow. "Want you."

Much as he might have enjoyed making out with the pretty young blonde, he knew full well that she was going to feel like shit come the morning. "Carter!" He grasped her shoulders. "Sit!"

She pouted. "Yes, sir," she said, and proceeded to do so. In his lap. She wiggled her butt into his pelvic region. "I know you want me, Jack." She grinned evilly. "I'm not so drunk that I can't feel it."

She was grinding a sweet little rounded ass right into his most sensitive area – of course it was going to respond! He pushed her off his lap and she fell with a giggle onto the seat. "Behave, Carter," he growled, closing his eyes and feeling a tension headache pound behind his eyes. It was going to be one long ride home.

* * *

God … so much blood. Her hands were covered in the blood of an innocent people. A simple agrarian people who had the misfortune to be sitting on one of the largest veins of naqadah the Goa'uld had ever come across. They hadn't stood a chance.

The old and the very young had been killed outright. The rest had been taken as slaves – some of the most beautiful to become hosts – and the planet was rapidly strip-mined.

So much blood … all on her hands.

Sam woke up trembling and with tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her hands. Would she ever be free of the blood?

She got out of bed, her head spinning from all the drinks she'd had with Janet and the guys, and headed slowly into the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she switched on the shower and stepped under the sharp spray.

She put a hand under the water, looking at its pale skin in fascination. How could something so small and slim have wrought such atrocities? She closed her eyes briefly then grabbed her shower gel, depositing a great glob into the washcloth. She scrubbed it roughly over her hands, trying to get the blood stains out.

But the stains of her sin were internal – she knew that. No amount of scrubbing would ever wash her free.

Stained … she was stained with the blood of countless people. Her stomach lurched and she dived out of the shower to curl up in front of the toilet, vomiting repeatedly.

Once she was certain she wasn't going to throw up any more, she got shakily to her feet and dragged a toweling robe over her damp body. She rinsed out her mouth and sighed. God … if she didn't get some sleep soon, she'd go nuts. And she was to give a briefing to SG-2 tomorrow morning – this morning. She had to be at the top of her form.

She opened the cabinet and picked up the bottle of sleeping tablets. _Just tonight_, she told herself sternly, palming two of the pills into her mouth and dry-swallowing them. _Just tonight._

* * *

**Three weeks later**

"Morning, Carter!"

She looked up as one Colonel Jack O'Neill leaned up against the door jamb to her lab, arms folded across his chest. "Sir; hi," she said, powering down her laptop and ejecting the floppy.

He regarded her curiously. "You look disgustingly healthy," he offered, sounding disgruntled.

She smiled slightly, accepting the silent accusation. She'd run into him last night at a little dive that had great beer. She had been pretty wasted, she recalled. "Never had a hangover in my life, sir," she said. She did feel good. She'd had six blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep and had managed to get in a half-hour on the running machine before heading for the lab.

He scowled. "That just … that's not fair," he said. He eyed her suspiciously. "Ya sure you didn't pray to the porcelain god at all?"

"Last night, sir," she admitted – she could give him that much, if only to prevent the pouting. Yes, folks; a six two tough-as-nails forty-something USAF Colonel was about two seconds away from an all-out pout. It was actually quite endearing.

"Cool." He pushed himself upright, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Anyway; better go. Going to P2 … yadda – more rocks for my favorite geek to marvel over."

"Artifacts, sir," Sam said, amused.

"Whatever," the Colonel shot back. "Whoa …" – he shook his head. "Except for the 'sir', you nailed him." He shook his head again, then gave her a cheeky grin. "Anyway, can't stand here dawdling in the land of the eggheads – rocks to go look at."

Sam put her hands on her hips. "Eggheads?"

He back-pedaled. "Not that you're an egghead." He paused. "Well, you are actually, but … in a cool way."

She chuckled. "Shouldn't you have made a beeping noise before backing up like that, sir?" she inquired.

He now wore a smirk a mile wide. "Teasing a superior officer, Carter? I'm proud of ya!"

She returned the smirk. "I learn from the best, sir," she said.

"Colonel O'Neill; report to the embarkation room!" the PA blared out.

"You're being paged, sir," she pointed out none too subtly, turning her attention to a strange piece of machinery SG-5 had brought back to the SGC yesterday.

"I can take a hint," O'Neill said. "Have fun with your … doohickey."

"Doohickey?" she queried.

"I believe that's the technical term," he said, offering her an innocent smile. "Anyway; I'm off. See ya later, Carter."

"Bye, sir," she replied absently, picking up the … doohickey. Damn the man; now she'd be calling it that for days!

* * *

Klorel strode over to the young dark-haired female, then gripped her chin to examine her features. "Young and lovely," he murmured, staring into her wide brown eyes. "Bow before your god!" he barked.

The female spat defiantly. "You are no-one's god!"

Klorel aimed his hand device at the defiant one's forehead. She cried out and crumpled to her knees with the pain. He went over to her and she shuddered with the remnants of the pain. "If my host were not a female, you would be mine," he told the young woman harshly. He gave a short laugh as the female's eyes finally showed fear. "You are a maiden – that is interesting. Perhaps my Jaffa should teach you a woman's proper place."

He turned and summoned his First Prime; Lor'aq. "Jaffa, kree!"

The tall, slim – but deceptively strong – Jaffa went over to him. "Yes, My Lord Klorel," he said.

"You will take this female and bring her to womanhood," Klorel said. "Then if she still lives, she will serve the pleasures of you and your Jaffa."

"My Lord …," the Jaffa said slowly.

"Lor'aq."

The Jaffa's eyes closed briefly. "I have done many things – performed many atrocities – in service to you, My Lord, but … I will not force myself upon an unwilling female."

"You disobey me?" Klorel was enraged. "I am your god – you will do as I say!"

"No; I will not," Lor'aq said. He looked at his god with … was that contempt? "A god would not ask me to defile a child like this." He indicated the terrified young woman.

"Then … you will die." Klorel smiled unpleasantly, then nodded to the other Jaffa, who aimed their staff weapons at Lor'aq.

Three bolts blasted out and Lor'aq crumpled to the ground. As the light of life left his eyes, he whispered; "I … die … free." Then he was gone.

Klorel looked down at the shol'va. "Throw his body out of the airlock," he said to his new First Prime. "Then you will show the female her new role in life."

The Jaffa dipped his head. "Yes, My Lord," he said. He and the other Jaffa left, bearing the body of the shol'va.

Klorel went over to the young female, who was breathing heavily. "He … you …," she said. "You killed him," she whispered, a tear finally falling.

Klorel laughed lightly. "After six days of torture, you cry over a Jaffa? Compassion is a lovely thing … in moderation." He pulled her to her feet, eyeing the slender form. "He called you a child – he was wrong." With a swift impatient move, he yanked off her robes, revealing womanly curves that had previously been hidden. "Beautiful," he said, then grasped her chin and covered her lips with his in a rough parody of a kiss.

Sam awoke, breathing heavily, then sat up, sweeping shaky hands through her hair. "Shit …," she muttered.

"Hey, babe." A heavy hand landed on her breast, curving possessively. "What's the matter? Bad dream?"

"A doozy," she admitted, looking at the handsome dark-haired young man. "I … uh … I have to go," she muttered, pushing the man's hand off her body. Had to get out of there. "Work."

"Yeah, me too." The young man sat up and eyed her warily. "Y'know; I'm not looking for anything serious – just passing through – but maybe I'll look you up next time I'm in town."

"If you want," Sam said. She wasn't looking for anything serious either. But these random encounters helped her cling to her humanity – made her feel something other than hatred and despair. If only for a few hours. She gave him a soft kiss. "I'll see you around, huh?"

* * *

Bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

I bore, you bore, we bore, they bore.

Bo-o-o-o-o-red!

Jack O'Neill – Special Forces USAF Colonel – was bored. Out of his gourd. To the point of actually shooting himself just so he could get the hell off this dust-bowl of a planet. But that would mean spending time with the evil Doc and her huge needles. He shuddered.

"Oh, my God. Jack; you have to see this!" Daniel was … excited.

Jack manfully swallowed a sigh, then tucked his P90 under his arm and headed over to his favorite scientist geek. "It's a rock, Daniel," he said patiently, looking at the item in question.

"The markings are English!" Daniel said. He blew some dust off the carving. "Old English – probably Elizabethan time."

Jack couldn't have cared less. "And …?" His free hand made a 'get on with it' gesture.

"So that could indicate that the Goa'uld …".

"Were being snaky pains in the butt on Earth as recently as the fifteenth century," Jack said. "And this affects us … how?" He snickered internally at the nonplused look on Daniel's face. "Helps to have a Masters in English History, Danny," he said.

Daniel shut his mouth with an audible snap. "A Masters … You have a Masters degree?"

"Yep," Jack said. "You don't think they'll let just any schmuck into Special Forces, do ya?"

Daniel still looked stunned. "Not as dumb as you look, huh?" he said.

"Did you even doubt that, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c inquired.

Jack smirked, then paused. "Was that a slam, T?"

"You must choose your own interpretation of my words, O'Neill," the big Jaffa said before moving off.

Daniel chuckled. "He's getting better at the humor thing," he offered.

"Yeah," Jack said absently, still chewing over the Jaffa's comment. "Anyway; are you done here? My favorite TV show's on tonight and I don't want to miss it … again."

Daniel sighed. "Yes, Jack; I'm finished here," he said patiently.

"Great!" Jack bounced slightly on his toes. "Then pack it up and let's go home."

* * *

"Welcome back, SG-1," Hammond said as Jack stepped off the ramp. "How was the mission?"

"Oh, wonderful, sir," Jack said. "Sand and rocks – Daniel was in hog heaven."

Hammond just looked at him – that _I am the General here – don't honk me off unless you want to spend the next six months chained to your desk signing requisitions_ look. "I trust your briefing will be a bit more informative, Colonel," he said.

"Yes, sir," Jack said, chastened – a little. "We'll be happy to debrief you after I've debriefed for a nice hot shower," he added.

"Permission granted, Colonel," Hammond said. "Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Jack said, loping out of the embarkation room and handing his P90 to one of the SFs.

He'd joined the Air Force to try to gain control over his wild rebellious nature, but was the first one to admit it hadn't been entirely successful. He managed to channel a lot of his excess energy on his missions, but still tended to get … antsy. And quiet missions like this latest one brought out the worst of his insubordinate streak. Bo-o-o-o-o-ring!

He stuffed his fists into his pockets, then headed to the locker room, making sure the sign was turned to 'Male'. Due to the disproportionately high male to female ratio of active officers on this base, female personnel did not yet have their own locker room. Their own shower block had been requisitioned three months ago, but the cogs of USAF bureaucracy run slowly, and so far permission had not been given.

He went into the locker room, yanking off his BDU jacket and tee shirt. He rounded the corner into the shower area, then skidded to a halt. "Whoa, Carter!" he said, pulling his tee shirt back over his head. "Y'know these are the men's showers right now?"

She didn't respond – didn't even turn round to face him. Her shoulders were hunched and she hugged her knees to her chest, like a little girl. "Carter?" He went over to her and was shocked. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes huge and her hair stood up madly.

"Carter." He touched her shoulder. "You okay?"

She looked up at him. "Sir," she said softly. "Sorry; I didn't notice the time. I'll get out of your way."

"You didn't answer me," he persisted. "Are you okay?"

She squared her shoulders, then got up from the floor. "Fine, sir," she said, then touched her stomach. "Just a bit sick. Think I'll go to the Infirmary."

"You do that, Carter," he said. "You look like crap," he added affectionately.

A smile touched her lips. "Such a flatterer you are, sir," she teased.

* * *

Sam breathed in deeply as she hurried out of the locker room. Christ … falling asleep in the men's locker room! But that two-day party had so been worth it, she decided. For two days, she had danced and drank and had wild monkey sex with 25-year-old hard bodies. That life the Colonel had ordered her to get was a lot more enjoyable than she would have believed during her Academy years.

But maybe she shouldn't do the two-day parties during weekends. Not if it was going to impact on her job performance. She'd save herself for her next leave period – which was in about two weeks.

She knew that sleeping around was both stupid and dangerous. But she enjoyed it. A lot. She'd never experimented as a teenager – partly due to being General Jacob Carter's little girl and partly because she was working very hard to get into the Air Force. Then she worked on her degree to qualify for OCS. After the Gulf War, she began work on her doctorate, which took up most of her free time and then some. A personal life had been a myth to Samantha Carter.

She could almost hear her old Academy room-mate saying "You go, girl!". She gave a chuckle and headed back for her lab, smothering a yawn as she approached one of the SG-3 Marines.

"Hey, egghead," Major Reynolds said. The Marine had transferred recently from the Groom Lake facility – also known as Area 51 – to take over command of SG-3 after Colonel Makepeace was indicted for treason. He'd been working with the NID to steal technology from the SGC's off-world allies, but Colonel O'Neill had helped bust that little operation.

"Hey, jarhead," she said with a smile. Since they'd met a couple weeks ago, they'd indulged in a great deal of harmless flirting. It was fun. He was engaged, and she wasn't in the market for a relationship, but the flirting helped ease the tension both experienced in their respective jobs. "How's Caroline?"

"Good," Reynolds said. "We've set the date. June 15th next year."

"Good for you," Sam said. "Guess that means you won't be wanting wild monkey sex tonight, huh?"

Reynolds chuckled. "In your dreams, egghead; in your dreams," he returned in the same light tone. He looked at her. "You know; you look like shit, Carter."

She coughed. "Wow; and I actually thought you were charming!" she said. "At least for a jarhead." She yawned again. "Partied a bit too hard this weekend," she admitted. "I'll catch up on my sleep tonight."

"Doctor Carter!" Jay Felger came rushing up to her. "You're needed in the lab."

Sam sighed. "Thanks, Jay; I'll be right there," she said.

* * *

Pain. God … so much pain. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling her head pound, and looked around.

The room was squalid, lit by a single naked light-bulb, and was littered with empty bottles, dirty clothes and old newspapers.

She sat up, gasping as her pelvis protested the sudden movement. What the hell had happened? Where the hell was she? She remembered … singing – badly – … dancing … kissing. Rough, lust-filled kisses. Eager, grasping hands. Painful, bruising hands. Knives …

She looked down at her torso and saw gouges cross-hatcheted over her breasts. Oh, God … Head spinning, she forced her aching body to stand and reached shakily for her clothes. She had little memory of last night, but it was pretty obvious she'd had a rough encounter.

"Leavin' so soon?" a man slurred. "I ain't finished with you yet, baby."

Sam's head whipped round to find a tall thin man lurch toward her, holding a blood-stained knife. _I am a Captain in the United States Air Force – this man will not hurt me again. _"Yes, you are," she said, wincing inwardly at how scratchy her voice sounded.

"You liked it well enough last night, you little whore," the man said, swinging the knife nonchalantly by its handle. "Screaming and pleading …". He leered at her. "Couldn't get enough."

Sam stuffed her feet into her loafers, willing herself not to puke in front of this sick psycho son of a bitch. "I'm leaving," she said. "And pray I never see you again."

The man laughed. "Yeah?" He stepped quickly over to her and grasped painfully at one of her breasts.

She blinked as her vision grayed, but it seemed her body wasn't about to betray her yet. She brought her knee up into the man's crotch – he screamed and fell, dropping his knife. "Fuckin' whore!" he cursed, getting back up.

She scooped up the knife with a trembling hand and held it in front of her. "Lay one finger on me and I'll slit you from throat to dick and leave the entrails for the rats," she said. She forced herself to steady the hand. "I mean it." She backed away from him, dropping the knife, and left the dank little hole.

Trembling, she made her way out of the apartment block, swaying dizzily as the sunlight hit her. God … what the hell had she allowed to happen?

* * *

She let herself into her apartment and closed the door behind her, using both dead bolts and the key. Taking deep breaths to quell the nausea, she made her way through the small apartment, locking all the windows.

Her chest and pelvic area were very painful by now, and she knew she should really report to Janet. But that would lead to too many questions … questions she did not want to answer.

Almost mechanically, she headed for her shower and stripped off her clothes. She switched on the water and stepped under the spray. She had to report to the SGC in less than three hours, and Hammond would have her hide if she was late again.

She looked in the mirror and was dismayed. Was this skinny woman with the lank hair and gaunt face the bright confident Samantha Carter she'd once been? Sam Carter would never have allowed that bastard anywhere near her. So … who was she now? Another 'date rape' victim? Another one who'd "had it coming"?

She looked at the dirty hand prints over her body, the bruises on her ribcage, her thighs, the traces of blood on her inner thighs. Dirty … She was so dirty. She broke into a helpless sob, then picked up her nail brush. Had to be clean. She worked cautiously over her inner thighs, removing the encrusted blood, then tackled the less painful areas of her rib cage. Had to be clean.

Tears ran down her cheeks as the water pounded down. Clean. Had to be clean. Had to be clean. She began to scrub furiously. Had to be clean.


	4. Chapter 4

**Three months later**

An eye appeared at the other side of the magnifying glass, then the view shifted to show a pair of thin but mobile lips. Sam smiled and shook her head.

"Whatcha doin'?" the lips asked.

"Just examining this Replicator block." She held up the inch long piece of metal that had been salvaged after Thor's ship had gone down. She'd never met the Asgard, but knew that Colonel O'Neill seemed to like him and trust him. The Colonel didn't give his trust easily, so this told Sam the little alien could be trusted.

The Colonel straightened his long form. "Is that wise?"

"Well, there's no discernible energy being emitted. I think it's safe to say it's dead."

A small smile tipped his lips. "Well … have fun." He plunged his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

"Still going fishing?" she asked.

"Yep. What about you?"

She stared into the magnifying glass. "This." She waved the Replicator part.

"Didn't I once order you to get a life?" he said.

Sam closed her eyes. "Yes, sir," she said neutrally. She'd tried to get a life, but hadn't done too good a job at it. "But – and you might think it's lame – I like my job. I love math and I love science. I like the unpredictability of science and the dependability of math – ten and ten is always twenty."

The Colonel smirked. "You'd be surprised …," he taunted. He went over to her white-board and rapidly wrote a long equation.

She looked at it. "Sir?" she said.

"Just a little something for that super-brain of yours to puzzle over for when you get sick of that … bug," he said. "Well, I'm off," he added. "Have fun, Carter!" he said and strolled out of her lab.

She went over to the white-board and put her hands on her hips, her lips pursed as she tried to follow the complex equation. To the layman, it would have looked like gibberish, but enough of it made sense for her to realize that the Colonel was a lot more intelligent than he liked to act.

She gave up on the complex equation for now, and returned her energies to examining the Replicator piece.

* * *

Twelve hours later, and she was back at the white-board. She tapped her finger to her lips, then sipped absently at the now cold coffee. _Yuck._

"Hey, Sam."

Daniel walked in with his ever-present cup of coffee in his hands. She'd only known him a couple days before she realized that he was addicted to the stuff. "Hey, Daniel," she replied with a smile.

He waved to the equations. "What are those?"

She sighed slightly. "I … don't know," she admitted. "Seems it's my turn for one of the Colonel's practical jokes."

SG-1 had been placed on stand down for a week after the fight against the Replicators, and had been confined to base to catch up on their reports. Well, more accurately, the Colonel had been ordered to catch up on his reports. And after about two days, the strain had gotten to him.

The man who could come out of a vicious fire-fight with a squad of Jaffa smirking and cracking wise became a snarling antsy dangerous man after just a couple hours of paperwork. Subordinates would scuttle out of his way as he stormed along the corridors and the punchbag in the gym would get the hammering of a lifetime.

Once the worst of the grouchies was out of the way, he would begin to pick on his team.

Daniel's coffee had been switched for gravy and Teal'c's kelno'reem candles for trick ones that wouldn't blow out. Kawalsky had learned to examine his boots after discovering oatmeal in the left one. Even Janet hadn't been spared – her penlight had been taken apart right down to the smallest wires and all of her syringes had shown up sans needle.

And it seemed it was now Captain Samantha Carter's turn.

"That's … good," Daniel said slowly.

"Excuse me?" Sam's eyebrows rose.

"Well," Daniel back-pedaled hastily, "it's not good that you're being tortured by math, but … if Jack didn't like you – didn't think you were part of the team – he wouldn't include you in his idiocy."

She snorted with a laugh, then was surprised when a tear dropped onto her cheek. God … she thought she was done with crying! But … she was pretty touched to find out that the Colonel actually liked her. She'd known he respected her – it was mutual – and that he cared about her welfare. That was the mark of a good superior officer. But liking was a whole other ball-game.

"Sam?" Daniel's brow beetled with concern. "What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "Just a little hormonal right now." She knew that Daniel had been married – he would make the inference she wanted.

Seems he did. "Ah," he said. He folded his arms over his chest. "Anyway, I'm off to the commissary." He patted his trim stomach. "Must eat, or I'll die. Wanna come with?"

Sam shook her head with a smile. "I'm not hungry," she said. She hadn't been hungry for months – since before … She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the ugly word. "But thanks. Maybe I'll see you later?"

Daniel smiled at her, then shoved his glasses up his nose. "Okay," he said, and strolled away.

* * *

Sam jerked awake, her neck stiff from her position slumped over her keyboard. "Oh … uhhhh," she muttered, trying to shake off the nightmare. She'd spent the last four days vacillating between the Replicator blocks and that equation the Colonel had left for her.

She'd gotten a greater understanding of how the Replicator parts communicated and had written up her findings for General Hammond. As for that equation … She moaned her frustration. If that man was here, he'd be in for a world of pain right now!

She dug out her cell, wondering if she still had the Colonel's number – would anyone truly have that man's 'number', she wondered irrelevantly. "Yes!" she whispered. She was ready to admit defeat – even if she was going to be subjected to a round of gloating.

She closed her eyes, praying to a God she didn't believe in that the Colonel would go easy on her, and dialed.

His cell rang several times before he deigned to answer. "O'Neill," he said gruffly.

"Sir; it's Carter," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. _Please, oh please, don't let him gloat …_

"Hey, Carter!" he said, sounding remarkably chirpy all of a sudden.

_Oh, God, I'm a dead woman._

"Sir; I wanted to ask you …"

"Carter; I'm disappointed in you," he nearly purred. "I wouldn't have figured you'd crack yet."

She stiffened indignantly. "I haven't cracked, sir," she replied. "I just … wanted to see if you were having a good time."

She could actually hear the smirk. "Of course," he said. "Would you like a little hint?" he taunted.

"I don't know, sir," she said warily. "What will it cost me?"

"Carter!" he whined. "I'm shocked. Don't you trust me?"

"With my life, sir? No question. With math …?"

He chuckled and she enjoyed the sound, only now realizing how rarely he laughed. She knew he was damaged goods. He'd been through so much in his life; the dirty, secret things he'd seen and done – for his country, for the world – torture, death. All of this nibbled away at a person's soul, taking away their sense of self. She knew. Yet he managed to still enjoy the little things – could be sweet, gentle and giving. If a tad eccentric at times. "Okay," he said. "Just for you. Ten equals eight."

Ten equals eight? Okay, so that was beyond eccentric. That was just plain weird. "Never mind, sir," she said. "Enjoy your leave."

She ended the call and sighed, running her hands through her hair. She'd go have a shower, then come back to the wretched board when she felt less like dog shit.

Strolling out of her lab, she stuffed her hands in her white lab coat and smiled at Doctor Fraiser. "Hi, Janet," she said.

"Hey, Sam," the other woman said. She eyed Sam's wayward hair and keyboard creases. "Fall asleep at your desk again?"

"Blame the Colonel," Sam grumbled. "Before heading off to his cabin, he left me a math riddle."

"Ah. And that necessitated you drooling on the keyboard?"

Subtle. "You know I like a challenge, Janet," Sam said. "But I have to admit; I don't think this is one I'll be solving for a while." She yawned and dug her fists into her eyes. "I'm going to hit the showers, then back to the lab. You?"

"Just going to catch up on some paperwork, then I'm going home." Janet touched Sam's arm. "I'm making lasagna tonight – you want to come round?"

"Not tonight, Janet; I've still got a lot of work to do."

"A-ah!" Janet said impatiently, sounding strangely like the Colonel. "Sam; you haven't left the base in God knows how long. You're not sleeping properly, eating strange stuff at weird hours, and subsisting on commissary sludge." She patted Sam's hand. "You need a night off. That's my prescription for you – both as the CMO and your friend."

Sam smiled. "How can I refuse, then?" she said, touched by the petite woman's concern. It might do her good to get off the base, blow away some cobwebs.

"And the first part of my prescription. Go shower, put in some time in the gym, and don't go back to your computer till at least 0800 hours." Janet put her hands on her hips, her tiny foot tapping. "Am I understood, Captain?"

Sam chuckled. "Absolutely, Major," she said, flipping her a cursory salute. "0800 hours; no sooner. Then off the base at …?"

"1400 hours, Sam," Janet replied.

* * *

Stepping out of the shower stall, she felt something closer to human. She automatically took in her reflection, pleased to see that the latest cuts were beginning to heal. She'd always been a fast healer, but her system was pretty depleted lately – even she knew that. Maybe if she could choke some food down, it would help.

Dressed in blue BDUs, she ran a comb through her short wet hair, then stuck her tongue out at her reflection. It was as good as it was ever going to get.

She left the locker room and bumped – literally – into Daniel. His hands came up to her shoulders and she stepped back quickly, her heart pounding. "Hey," she said breathlessly. Funny how the smallest things could rattle her.

Sometimes she could fool herself that she was dealing with the … she closed her eyes … the rape. She'd tucked it away in her sub-conscious and it would sometimes stay there for days at a time. Then, all of a sudden, it would decide to come out and bite her in the ass. Like last night. She was a lot more wary around people than she'd been before the attack, which she figured was natural, but when the nightmares came she became nervous and jumpy. Even around her friends.

"So … how goes the math?"

Sam sighed. "Getting nowhere," she admitted. "And Janet's kicked me out of the lab till 0800 hours."

Daniel chuckled. "Me too," he said. "She's tiny, but very scary. So … neither of us can hit our base till eight. Want to go get some coffee?"

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, and they headed into the elevator. No base until eight – damn Napoleon! Base … eight. Oh my God. "Base … eight, Daniel!" she said.

Daniel looked fogged – not unexpectedly. "Sam?"

She snagged his notebook and pen and scribbled '10 8'. "God; it's base eight math!" she said.

"Okay," Daniel said slowly. "I'm just going to pretend I know what you're talking about."

Sam barely heard him; her brain clicking away. "What time is it?" she asked, impatient to get back to her lab.

Daniel checked his watch. "Seven o'clock," he said. He chuckled. "I know you're itching to get back to your lab but trust me, Janet will have locked you out. She's done it to me often enough."

"The Colonel understands base eight math," Sam said, still in shock. "He's nowhere near as dumb as he acts, is he?"

"No," Daniel agreed as they entered the commissary and snagged a coffee each. "Hey; did you know he had a Masters?"

"Of course," Sam said. "You can't progress past the rank of Major in Special Forces without at least a Masters," she said.

"Oh."

Daniel helped himself to a regular mountain of waffles while Sam contented herself with a small bowl of oatmeal. After weeks of not eating properly, she knew she'd likely hurl if she tried to eat too much in one go.

* * *

Whistling tunelessly and supremely content after a week of fishing in an empty lake, Jack O'Neill strolled out of the elevator to find Sam Carter waiting for him, her hands on her hips. "Base eight math, sir?" she said, an eyebrow tipped upward.

Jack smirked. "Knew you'd get it, Carter," he said. "Good on ya."

"Yes, sir," she said and fell into step beside him as they went to the elevator. "I've been doing some reading – old SG-1 mission reports, that sort of thing."

"Yes …?"

"More specifically, your interactions with an alien database – an Ancient repository."

Carter was almost purring by now and he had the sudden feeling that he'd become the prey. "Yep. I stuck my face in, it grabbed my head and made me talk weird."

She smiled and that uneasy feeling increased. "Yes, sir. The thing is; your report indicated that the Asgard cleared your mind of the Ancient knowledge."

"A-ah!" He held up his hand. "I never said that," he temporized. "I said that they sorted me out."

"Which means …?"

Crap. So dead. "Uh … that the knowledge is still there," he said quickly. "But most of it's blocked off so it doesn't overwhelm me again." There. One of the things he'd been sitting on for two years was out.

"So … you still possess the knowledge of the Ancients," she said. "Like base eight math, Fibonacci sequencing, quantum mechanics …".

She looked at him assessingly, and he could almost hear the cogs of her giant brain spinning. "Carter; this is exactly why I didn't tell anyone the truth," he said. "We both know the NID would be all over me, and I don't fancy spending the rest of my life as some goddamn lab rat."

Carter nodded her head. "I can understand that," she said, and he realized that she truly did. The NID had tried to get to her a couple of times since her return to Earth, for her Goa'uld memories, but General Hammond had set a large and heavy foot on their ideas. "But something else puzzles me."

He aimed a sarcastic but – in his eyes – quite charming smile her way. "You, Carter?" he said.

"Teal'c, Daniel and Kawalsky also looked into the device," she said. "And they weren't affected by it. I can understand with Teal'c – he's Jaffa and the Ancients were enemies to the Goa'uld. But Kawalsky and Daniel are both entirely human. I don't get why it picked on you as opposed to them."

He smirked. "Just part of my mystique, Carter," he said. He'd spent some time himself wondering why that doohickey had grabbed his head. He'd asked Thor a couple times, but his little gray buddy had been less than forthcoming, stating simply that it was better that Jack didn't know yet.

He looked at her carefully. She'd lost a lot of weight since being freed from the snake – he could understand that – and had been approaching emaciated when he'd come back from Edora. But now … she was still thin, but her blue eyes held a sparkle and a faint pink tinged her cheeks as she laughed. "Lookin' good, Carter," he said lightly. "Heard the evil Doc kicked you out of your lab a couple days ago."

"Yes, sir," she said, her cheeks now a brighter pink at the casual compliment. "As Daniel said, she's tiny but she's scary."

He shuddered. Was she ever! He bent down to secure his boot lace, then saw a foot in a court shoe. A tiny, tiny shoe. And that tiny foot was tapping.

"Colonel … welcome back," Fraiser said.

He got up, wondering how a woman a foot shorter than him could be so damn intimidating. "Hey, Doc." He aimed his most charming smile at her – the one Sara had told him she'd fallen for before she even knew his name. "How's it going?"

Her eyebrow tilted, and he realized how often they all did that now after nearly four years of the all-embracing Jaffa lift. "Oh, very well, Colonel. Nice of you to ask," she said. "Especially now that my new hypodermics have arrived." She put a hand on his arm, clearly indicating that he wasn't going anywhere. "You're overdue for your medical, Colonel," she said sweetly. "You know you can't be released for active duty until I perform a full work-up."

Colonel John J. O'Neill squared his shoulders. _Once more unto the breach._

"Bye, Colonel," Carter said sweetly, flashing him a grin.

"I'll want to see you next week, Sam," Janet said as she took a surprisingly firm grip of the reluctant Colonel's arm and steered him to her lair.

The grin dropped rapidly away and Jack smirked. Heh. Revenge – gotta love it.

* * *

**Two weeks later**

Hard painful hands grasping at her thighs, her breasts. Teeth tugging at her skin in a vicious parody of love-biting. A knife cutting into her bruised flesh.

Sam wiped the stupid tears out of her eyes, then headed to the shower. No use crying over something she couldn't change. She had to get clean, then head to the mountain.

She stepped into the shower and took up her scrubbing brush, applying it roughly over her sin-soaked body. So dirty … she was covered in the blood of innocent people. Another useless tear slipped down her cheek.

She closed her eyes, hating the Goa'uld with a passion. He had broken her – had left her afraid of everything … She opened her eyes and slammed her fist into the mirror. "I hate you!" she screamed, hoping that wherever he was, he would hear her. "I hate you!" she sobbed, sinking down to the floor.

How long she sat there, sobbing and mumbling, she couldn't say. But she gradually became aware of a stinging pain in her hand. "Ow," she muttered, picking up a shard of glass – evidently from the mirror. She looked at it, then at her cut hand, the blood oozing outward and taking her sin with it.

God, all that blood …

She drew the glass softly over her upper thigh, surprised at how much it stung. "Son of a bitch!" she cursed. The stinging soon ceased, however, and she watched with a morbid fascination as the blood leaked slowly out, being washed away in the sharp spray of the shower. Washing her sins away …

She got up, feeling a little better, and stepped out of the shower, pulling a fuzzy robe around her. She yawned widely, nearly breaking her jaw. Damn; she had to be on form today. She'd finally plucked up the courage to ask to go off world, and Hammond had agreed to send her out with SG-5 for a follow-up visit to P2J 741.

She'd stopped taking the sleeping tablets a couple days ago, in preparation for this mission, and had noticed an improvement. True; she hadn't slept particularly well, waking up often, but she wasn't as sluggish and heavy-headed anymore. But she had to be alert today – she was going out with an SG team at 1100 hours. And General Hammond deserved nothing less than her best.

She eyed the other bottle thoughtfully. She might not be a medical doctor, but she was a scientist. She knew her body well; knew exactly what she could handle. Besides, it was only this one more time. Two little tablets certainly wouldn't show up in the post-mission physical. Just one more time, then she would definitely stop. Besides, she hated how shaky the stupid things could make her.

But … damn it all to hell … the large stinging gash on her upper thigh would show up. Janet had commented on the scars all over Sam's breasts during the physical, but Sam hadn't wanted to talk about it. Janet had accepted that, but had stated that she was there as a friend if Sam needed her.

She quickly grabbed her razor and ran it carelessly up her legs, deliberately nicking in several spots near the cut area. She could claim that something had startled her in the shower – she just hoped Janet would buy it. That bullshit detector of hers was one finely-tuned instrument.

She applied some iodine to the wounds, her vision graying when the yellow liquid hit the largest gash. _Don't hurl, don't hurl_, she chanted to herself. She sucked in a deep breath, surprised at how badly she was shaking, then splashed some cool water onto her face.

She eyed the bottle once more, then uncapped it, palming two of the pills and dry-swallowing them. Then it occurred to her how easily she could now swallow pills. God … what did that say about what she'd become? She opened both bottles and, with a calm deliberate motion, poured the contents down the toilet.

No more, she vowed. She had to get off the horrible things. Even though they made her feel really good for a short time, the annoyingly logical part of her brain knew that she was setting herself up for trouble somewhere along the line.

* * *

"Fair day, Jack!"

"Fair day, Garan," Jack said, clapping the youngster on the back. "How's it going?"

"It goes well." The young man blushed. "I am betrothed."

Geez; he was just a kid! "Oh?" said Jack. "To whom?"

"Naitha – you remember her?"

"Yeah," Jack said. He shook hands with Garan. "Congratulations." He looked around. "Uh … where's your mom?"

Garan smiled. "She is in the house – she'll be pleased to see you again." He eyed Jack. "She has missed you."

"Yeah, I've missed her too," Jack said gruffly. "I wanted to come back sooner, but …".

"Your superiors wished for you to explore new worlds; not revisit old ones," Garan said. "Mother understands this. And so do I. Go to her, Jack."

Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled away from the 'gate, nodding to the people he'd gotten to know so well during his months on this planet. Even Paynan had finally warmed up to him after he'd spent hours helping the grouchy old coot fix up his house.

He headed up the path to Laira's pleasant little house, pleased to see that little had changed. He wasn't a big fan of change. He opened the door and peeked through, catching the delicious smell of home-made bread. "Laira?" he said.

"Jack!" Laira said, sounding muffled but delighted. "You came back!"

He stepped into the kitchen, seeing her small frame bent over the stove, whence the gorgeous smells issued. He went over to her. "Fair day, Laira," he said.

She turned and put her hands to his shoulders, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Fair day, Jack," she replied.

He wrapped her up in a giant hug, nearly lifting her off her feet, then felt something press into his abdomen. He set her down, and moved away slightly. The swell of her stomach was now quite obvious. She was pregnant.

* * *

"Yes, Jack," she said, her hand resting on her distended abdomen. "I'm with child. And it is yours."

Pregnant. He was going to be a father again. A hard fist of panic settled over him, constricting his breathing. He loved kids, sure, but he'd not done a great job at the dad thing the first time round. What made him think he'd do any better this time? "I … see," he said slowly. "I'm happy for you," he said.

She smiled radiantly, then linked her fingers with his. "I don't expect marriage," she said. "My place is here and yours is on Earth. But I would like you to be part of our lives – mine and the baby's."

"Uh …". Jack had never found it easy to open up – this flaw contributing to the final collapse of his marriage – but knew he had to give Laira something. For cryin' out loud, she was expecting his kid! "You know I lost Charlie," he said. "What if I …" – he gulped, surprised to find tears in his eyes – "what if I harm this kid? I can't go through that a second time!"

"Jack." Laira pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, then led him to a large comfortable chair. They sat down and she slid her arms around him. "I know you'll never believe this, but I've seen you with children, and you're wonderful with them. And I know you were a good father. You will have taught Charlie not to play with weapons, correct?"

"Yes," he admitted, a tear now sliding down his cheek. "But he was just a kid, and kids are curious. I should have made sure the safe was locked." He heaved a sigh. "I can't … forgive myself."

"I know you are scared to let yourself love again, Jack, but you deserve peace. And love," Laira said. She took his clenched fist and unfurled the fingers. Then she put his hand on her abdomen, letting him feel the life tumbling around within. "This is your child. And you will love him or her, because that is the type of man you are." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "And I love you – scars both within and without."

"God." Jack felt the icy fist round his heart ease slightly as his hand rested on the new life. "I'll do my best for you, Laira," he said.

"Good." She gave him another sweet kiss. "That is all anyone can ever do." She sat up. "And now … will you help a fat pregnant lady up off this chair?"

He got up and drew her gently to her feet, dropping a kiss to her lips. "You may be a fat pregnant lady, but you're still beautiful," he told her.

She smiled against his lips, then swept her tongue between them to tangle with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss intensified. Both were breathless when their mouths finally separated. "Holy c … buckets!" Jack said.

Laira smiled. "We're still good together," she said. She linked her arm with his and led him into the bedroom. "And it is time to remind you of just what you've been missing while you've been exploring the planets."

Nothing loath, Jack allowed her to push him gently onto the bed and she slid her hands inside his black tee shirt, pulling it over his head. "I've missed this," she said softly, exploring his abdomen – first with her hands, then with her lips.

"Yeah …," he grunted and she chuckled. Hell; he'd never been the most eloquent guy around!


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, for God's sake, McKay! That's insane!"

"I think I'm right."

"And I think you're an idiot!"

Sam turned away from the annoying little pinhead – who had she pissed off in a previous life to deserve Rodney McKay? – and booted up her lap-top.

"Carter; stand down." Colonel O'Neill wandered into the lab with a smirk on his face. "He may be an idiot, but he doesn't know what we know."

"And why should I listen to you, Colonel?" the visiting scientist said. "What's your doctorate in?"

"Doctor …," Sam said, seeing the cold fury on the Colonel's face. Maybe he didn't have a doctorate, but he was intelligent and tough – he didn't deserve to be blown off as if he were the village idiot.

"You on the other hand, I could listen to you reading the phone book," McKay added, turning to Sam.

"Oh, brother," Sam muttered.

"Y'see; I've always had a weakness for dumb blondes." McKay smirked.

_Ohhh, he's just begging for it now!_, Sam seethed.

"Doctor McKay." The Colonel's voice was colder than she'd ever heard. "You are a visitor here. While you're not bound by our military code, Captain Carter deserves respect – both as an officer and as a scientist. How many of the known laws of physics have you broken recently?"

McKay – uncharacteristically – said nothing.

"That's what I thought." The Colonel stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You might want to ask Carter to show you the particle accelerator she built a few months ago," he offered.

"A … particle accelerator?" The scientist's eyebrows rose. "We are nowhere near that level of development."

Sam smiled at the cat-got-the-cream look on the Colonel's face; the mobile mouth quirked into a smirk, the deep brown eyes gleaming with mischief. Holy cow; he was one good looking man. "Guess again, McKay," he said. "Carter; get him into your files, then get someone to take him down to the basement."

_And leave him there? Preferably with nothing to eat but lemon chicken? Please? _"Yes, sir," she said. She accessed the files, then shoved the lap-top over to the still silent McKay.

"Now … follow me, Carter." The Colonel beckoned her to the door with a crook of his finger.

She went over to the doorway, and he drew her into the corridor. "Sir?"

"Carter; when was the last time you had leave?"

"Leave?" Sam pulled her top lip in between her teeth. "I … don't remember," she admitted.

"If you don't remember, it's been too long," the Colonel said. "You need to relax – you're too tense."

"Tense? I'm not tense," Sam said. "I've just always thought of myself as being … very focused."

"Tense," the Colonel told her. "I pride myself on my observational skills. And you – Captain Doctor Samantha Carter – are tense. Irritable. Distracted."

"So what's your prescription, Doctor O'Neill?"

"Take some leave, Carter. Get out of this mountain. Go … fishing!"

"Fishing?" Her eyebrows arched.

"Or … something." The Colonel tapped a finger to his lips. "Hey, it's August. Why not head for the Sturgis Cycle Rally?"

Sam stared at him. How did he know she liked bikes? "Sir?"

"Carter … I've seen that 1940 Indian of yours in the parking lot. Pretty sweet machine." He gave her a smirk. "So … go. South Dakota and cycle rallies wait for no man … woman."

"Sir … the rally lasts for a week."

"Yeah? So? And?" O'Neill sighed. "You're not gettin' it, are ya, Carter? As a Colonel; I outrank you. As 2IC of this whole damn base, I outrank you. I can order your ass outta here for as long as I want." His tone softened. "As your friend, Carter, I'm asking you to take some leave. Go get some fresh air, trade bike stories with hairy hippy guys, eat junk food."

Sam smiled. "How can I say no to that, sir?" she said. "Although maybe I'll leave the junk food out. That's more your thing than mine."

The Colonel snorted. "Yeah, like your beloved blue Jell-O is so damn healthy."

_This from the guy who eats Froot Loops dry! _Sam clamped down on that thought before it could be voiced. "Point taken, sir," she said.

* * *

Jack allowed himself a small pleased smile when he saw Carter roar away from the base on her Indian. If anyone needed to get a life, it was his favorite brainiac. And speaking of … "Hey, Daniel," he said to his other favorite brainiac.

"Hi, Jack," Daniel replied. "Was that Sam on that bike?"

"Yep." Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Finally managed to get her ass off this base. Didn't even have to threaten her with court martial."

"I'm impressed," Daniel said. "So; how's Laira?"

_Nice segue, junior. _"She's good," Jack said, steering his best friend – yep; a geeky linguist with allergies was his best friend! – into the elevator. "She's pregnant – about seven months."

"Pregnant?" Daniel goggled at him. "Uh … wow. Is it yours?"

"Yep," Jack said, feeling a small grin tug at his lips. The days he'd spent with Laira had helped ease his anxieties about fatherhood. He'd been given a chance to do it right this time, and damned if he was going to mess up again.

"Wow," Daniel said again. "And … you're okay?" Daniel had been with him on that first mission to Abydos; had seen the shell of a man Jack O'Neill had been. But the geeky linguist and Skaara had helped pull him back from the abyss.

"Yeah; I'm pretty good," Jack said briefly.

Daniel smiled. "I'm glad for you, Jack," he said sincerely. "You deserve to be happy."

Jack clapped his friend's shoulder. "Thanks." Always uncomfortable with showing much emotion, he added, "So; what wonderful dusty planet full of rocks is up next on our schedule?"

Daniel sighed. "Artifacts – and I don't know."

* * *

"I am Klorel. You and your people will submit to my will!"

**_You're getting pretty cliché there, snake-boy_**, the host taunted.

Ignoring her was not proving to be as easy as he'd thought when he'd taken the Tauri three months earlier, despite the punishment he meted out on a regular basis. Although Goa'uld rarely communicated with the host body – unlike the scourge that was the Tok'ra – Klorel had actually come to appreciate the battle of wills. So many people cringed at the mere mention of his name that to have even one with a spark of bravery was a novelty.

And Klorel – like all Goa'uld – enjoyed new things. Deeply sensual beings, the Goa'uld chose the most beautiful hosts, then clothed the hosts in silken array. They lived in beautiful palaces and carried the ornate architecture into their ships.

But this host could also be tiresome. Her mind and will were extremely strong, and she had managed to wrest control from him only two weeks ago. It had only been for less than a minute, but for those few seconds he had felt an alarming awareness of his disembodiment.

He had swiftly taken back control and had flooded her system with enough pain to send her crumpling to the floor, sobbing in agony. She had learned her lesson about trying to take control, but it did not stop her from taunting him. It was time she learned another lesson …

He prowled around the large dungeon, stepping over the scattered bodies of those foolish beings who had tried to resist. One male – older than the others, with a wiry frame, dark eyes and a thinning pate – stared at him defiantly. Klorel flicked a wrist impatiently – far too old to be an adequate slave. "Kill him. Take the others," he instructed his First Prime.

He felt the host's distress and saw an image flash into his own mind. That of a man similar in appearance to this defiant one, but dressed in odd blue clothes – a uniform, perhaps? The uniform was not unattractive, and was decorated with several rows of brightly colored ribbons. Two silver stars adorned each shoulder. "Sammie," the man said, saluting a younger version of Klorel's host. "I'm proud of you."

The young Samantha Carter, dressed in a similar blue uniform, but without the ribbons and only a single silver bar on the shoulders returned the salute. "Thanks, Dad," she said.

This one reminded his host of her father. This was very pleasing. "Jaffa; wait!" he said, stopping Lor'aq from aiming his staff. "Do not kill him … yet. He does not deserve a swift death. Instead, I will teach him what it means to defy his god."

"You are … no god," the man said, his brown eyes locking with the host's blue ones. "I will die cursing your name."

"Yes; you will die," Klorel agreed, "but not quickly. You will die a thousand deaths until you beg me for mercy."

Sam stood in the shower, her face wet with tears. That man had reminded her so much of her father, and Klorel had taken advantage of her shocked surprise to teach her a lesson. At her hands, the man had died a variety of lingering and painful deaths – only to be revived over and over again in a sarcophagus. After three months of this treatment, he had been a shell of a human and had indeed pleaded for his real death.

He had been given it. But not a quick one. Instead, Klorel had found a dying Goa'uld and had implanted the man with it. He had watched with pleasure as the dying Goa'uld released a variety of toxins into the man, and the screams of pain had echoed through the mothership for nearly two weeks before both Goa'uld and host had finally succumbed.

She took the shard of glass with shaking hands and cut a careful line to the top of her thigh. Had to wash away her sins. She was so dirty – could never make up for what she had done to so many innocents … She should have fought the Goa'uld harder – maybe he would have killed her then instead of leaving her with this half life.

She drew a similar cut to her other thigh and watched the blood seep slowly down her legs to mingle with the water beating down on her. She took another swig of vodka – went down much more easily than whisky – then palmed several sleeping tablets into her mouth.

She needed a good night's sleep – she'd already missed the first day of the Sturgis Rally due to her nightmares. She was damned if she was going to miss the rest of it! The Colonel was right – she needed this leave. The idea of just taking off on her Indian for several days of biking was … exhilarating.

She washed down the tablets with the last of the vodka, then turned on unsteady feet to go to bed. "Ow!" She looked down and saw she'd stubbed her toes on an empty bottle of ouzo. She grimaced. She didn't even like ouzo – hated aniseed – but it had been the only thing in her drinks cabinet last night when the nightmares had hit her again.

So this morning, she'd gone out to the 7-11 and got a half dozen bottles of really good Stoli – why go half-assed? Yeah; there were cheaper brands around, but they didn't have the same rapid effect. Numbness – there was a lot to be said for it. She kicked a couple of empty bottles out of her path and fell into bed, closing her eyes – she'd clear them up later.

* * *

**Ten days later**

"Colonel O'Neill; where is Captain Carter?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, sir," he said. He went over to the phone and called the check-in desk. "Sergeant; this is Colonel O'Neill. Has Captain Carter checked in yet? I see. Thanks."

He put the phone down and turned to his CO. "She hasn't checked in yet, sir," he said.

"She was due to report back at 1800 hours yesterday," Hammond said. He looked at his watch. "It's now 1430. She's dangerously close to being declared AWOL."

"Sir – permission to go get her," Jack said, feeling the muscles in his jaw twitch in his anger. He'd been the one to push her out of this mountain for leave, but the least she could do was haul ass back on time! He'd broken a few – 'a few?' his mind cackled – rules himself in his time, but he'd never gone AWOL. Intentionally, anyway.

"Permission granted, son," Hammond said. "And you also have my permission to ream her off a good one."

"Yes, sir," Jack said.

He left his CO's office and headed rapidly to the surface of the mountain base, his annoyance giving him wings. "Jack!" he heard Daniel call.

"Daniel; I'm kinda in a hurry," Jack said shortly.

"I'm worried about Sam – she's not answering her cell," the younger man said. "It's switched on, but it's just ringing."

Now, that was odd. The Sam Carter that Jack knew was practically welded to her cell phone. He'd seen her with her phone clamped between her ear and shoulder, tapping into her computer with one hand and taking apart a naqadah reactor with the other one – the woman knew how to multi-task. "Probably just partied too hard at the rally," he said dryly, trying to hide his own worry. "Hammond's ordered me to get her butt back to base."

Daniel just looked at him. "I know you're worried too," he said. "I'm coming with you," he added. "She … might be in trouble."

Jack nodded briefly. The archeologist had toughened up a lot since he'd first met him and could handle himself well. Plus he and Carter had become good friends since the snake had been removed. "Okay," he said, and they got into his truck. "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Jack got out of the truck, withdrawing his nine mil. "Got yours, Daniel?" he asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said, swinging open his jacket to show the holster.

The two men passed by a gaggle of young women – unaware of the appreciative stares they garnered – and headed into Carter's pretty little apartment block. "Apartment 2C," Jack said and headed up the stairs with a long ground-eating stride.

He banged on the door of apartment 2C, surprised when it opened. Weird; Carter was usually pretty obsessive about locking up … okay; make that anal. He stepped in cautiously. "Carter?"

His foot met something that clinked and he looked down, seeing several empty bottles. "Quite some party," Daniel commented, pointing Jack toward a table, loaded with empty bottles.

"Christ …," Jack muttered, his spidy sense kicking in. He really didn't like where this was going. "Carter!" he called out.

"I'll check the bedroom," Daniel said, withdrawing his nine mil.

"Yeah; I'll take the bathroom," Jack replied. He headed for the bathroom and heard the shower. "Carter?" he called out. There was no answer. Crap. "Sorry if you're naked in there, Carter," he mumbled.

He shouldered his way in, coughing and choking on the steam that billowed out to greet him. "Geez … like it hot, do ya?" he complained. He opened a window to let the steam out, then headed to the glass stall. "Carter!" he barked. "So help me; I will drag that sweet little … uh … you outta there. You're this close to being AWOL!"

Still no answer. Maybe she wasn't even in. But then why would she leave the water running? This was bad. Really bad.

He yanked open the door and his heart leapt to his throat. Crumpled in the corner of the stall was one of his favorite eggheads with huge gashes in her upper thighs, clutching at a razor and surrounded by various empty pill bottles.

"Oh, God … Sam," he muttered, stepping into the stall and switching off the water. "Daniel!" he roared. "Call the Doc!"

"You found her? Is she okay?" Daniel appeared at the doorway. "Oh, my God …," he said. "What happened?"

"Daniel!" he snapped.

"Uh … right." The archeologist blinked at him then took out his cell, backing out of the small bathroom to give Jack room.

"Sam," Jack said firmly, grasping her chin. He slapped her lightly. "Wake up."

Her head lolled to the side and she took in a shallow breath. "Wake up, dammit!" he repeated, slapping her once more.

Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed blearily at him, with no sign of recognition in those usually bright eyes. "Blood …," she mumbled. "So … much … blood." Her eyes rolled back and she slumped against him, losing consciousness once more.

* * *

**Several hours later**

Jack paced the corridor outside the ICU, waiting for the Doc to come out. He'd had so many cups of coffee by now that he was practically bouncing off the walls – rivaling Daniel at his most hyper.

Teal'c sat in one of the chairs, his eyes closed, looking like a young giant Buddha. "Your pacing is counter-productive, O'Neill," he said calmly. "Captain Carter will not be helped by you driving yourself to exhaustion."

The big Jaffa was annoyingly logical – like that Spock dude from Star Trek. Huh; they even both did the eyebrow thing! _Geez, now you're rambling, O'Neill_, he told himself, forcing his legs to carry him to a nearby chair. "Christ." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, leaving it sticking up idiotically.

Daniel and Kawalsky appeared and sat on either side of their CO. "Any news yet, Colonel?" Kawalsky said.

"Nope." Jack knew he was being surly, but he hated sitting outside an ICU while someone he cared for hovered between life and death. It cut too damn close to the bone.

"I don't understand," Daniel said, still in shock. "Why would she … want to kill herself?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Jack snapped. "Who knows why anyone does anything?" He clenched his fists, then gave a long groan. "Fuck," he whispered.

The door opened and Fraiser appeared in front of the Colonel. "Colonel," she said softly.

"Uh," Jack grunted.

"What's the word, Doc?" Kawalsky asked.

Fraiser pulled off her surgical mask and ran a hand tiredly through her hair. "It was touch and go," she admitted. "If Daniel and the Colonel hadn't gotten her here when they did, she might not have survived. We had to pump her stomach – she'd taken an exotic cocktail of drugs. Benzadrine, dexadrine, aspirin, codeine, demerol …".

"Janet … how is she?" Kawalsky persisted, seeing as Jack wasn't talking.

"She's not out of the woods yet, but it looks good," the petite medic said. "Once the effects of the drugs wear off, we'll be in a better position to judge." She smiled slightly. "She's conscious if you'd like to see her," she added. "Just a few minutes, though."

Jack didn't move; he was too aware of a tight knot of anger building up in his gut. She was a young beautiful woman with a giant brain who could have anything she wanted in life. Why the hell would she throw that precious gift away?

"Colonel?" Fraiser said. She touched his arm. "She … asked to see you first."

Jack took a deep breath, then buried the anger deep inside. Now wasn't the type to explode – Carter would be very fragile right now. "Yeah," he said and got up.

He followed the doctor into the ICU and drew in a breath. Carter was hooked up to an IV with a cannula under her nose to aid her breathing. She was dressed in one of those stupid hospital gowns that leaves your ass hanging out – the whiteness rivaled only by that of her face. Huge blue eyes stared out vacantly.

God … she looked so frail. Five nine, level three hand to hand and a USAF officer. But she'd never seemed so tiny as she did lying in that bed with various machines monitoring her life signs.

He went over to the bed. "Hey, Carter," he said.

"Sir," she said hoarsely. "Throat … sore."

"Yeah." He took a cup of ice chips from the tray and dug the spoon in. "Here," he added, putting the spoon to her lips.

She swallowed the chips. "Thanks," she muttered. She touched her throat. "Aches."

"That's from the GI tube, Sam," Fraiser said. "We had to pump your stomach."

Carter's brows rose, then she put a thin hand to her abdomen. "Oh," she said in understanding. Her lashes fell. "Tired," she mumbled.

"Then sleep, Sam," Fraiser said.

Carter turned her face into the pillow and sighed, drifting off. Fraiser turned to the Colonel. "She's just sleeping, sir," she said. "It's the best thing for her."

She put her hand to his forearm and tugged him away from the bed. "When I did her bloodwork, I found evidence of long-term abuse," she said gently. "She's been taking some pretty hard drugs for several months by the look of it."

Jack's gut clenched. He knew what that meant. "Then the next few days aren't gonna be pretty," he said. "What're you gonna tell Hammond?"

"I'll have to tell him the truth, sir," she said. "The Captain can't stay in the Air Force if she's an addict."

His gut clenched again. "Why not? They've done it before," he said. "Just … give it a few days, huh, Doc?"

Fraiser eyed him thoughtfully, her sherry-brown eyes flickering over Jack's impassive face. "A few days, then, sir," she said. "But if the General asks me outright, I can't lie to him."

"Fair enough."

* * *

**Four days later**

Pain. Rolling, agonizing, eyeball-piercing pain. Sweating and shaking, Sam Carter retched helplessly into the kidney bowl the Colonel held. "Why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed. "I thought we were friends!"

"We are friends, Carter," he said, pushing back her sweat-damp hair. "You need to get this shit out of your system."

"Aaaaggghh!" Another agonizing stomach cramp gripped her and she doubled over, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "Just … let me have something! Please?" She wasn't too proud to beg.

His brown eyes closed briefly and he took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said. "No dice."

She retched once more, now only bringing up water and bile. "I hate you," she muttered, lying limply in his strong embrace.

"I know," the Colonel said. "You'll get over it."

"Don't lie to me," she said hoarsely. "I won't be lied to." Fucking bastard. What the hell had ever made her think this son of a bitch was a nice guy? He wouldn't even give her an aspirin! "Fine." She pulled out her IV. "I'll get my own fucking painkillers."

"Doc!" O'Neill called.

Janet appeared and helped O'Neill wrestle Sam back into the bed and reattached the IV. Fucking traitor – shouldn't women stick together?

* * *

A soft hand touched his cheek. Jack lifted his head, groaning at the pain this produced in his neck, and looked around blearily. "Colonel?" Carter said softly.

He looked over to the soft voice and saw Carter looking at him with big, thankfully clear, blue eyes. "Hey," he offered roughly. "You look better."

She smiled slightly. "Feel like shit," she said forthrightly. "What happened?"

"I found you unconscious in the bathroom," he said, remembering with a shudder the fear that had gripped him at the gory sight. "The doc had to pump your stomach – she knows and so do I what you've been doing to yourself."

She closed her eyes. "Fuck …," she muttered. "Sorry to worry you."

"Worried," he said scornfully. "You know, you could lose your commission over this!" he added. "The Air Force has very little use for addicts." She flinched at the ugly word. "Yeah; that's what I said."

"I think you'd better go, Colonel," Carter said coldly. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now."

"Well, that's tough, cos I've only just got started." Jack knew you couldn't go softly-softly with an addict. "You're addicted to quite a cocktail of drugs and you tried to kill yourself – you're in for one hell of a lecture!"

"I didn't try to kill myself," she replied, having the gall to sound offended. "I'm not suicidal."

"Uh … Carter – I was there," he pointed out. "That razor and those pills said otherwise," he pointed out less than tactfully.

She looked at him, her eyes hard and angry, then her shoulders sagged and she began crying quietly. "I'm not suicidal," she said. "It's just something I do sometimes," she confessed.

"Why?"

"It feels better."

Now he was bewildered. "Better than what?"

"Everything else," she whispered.

Shocked at the depths of despair Carter seemed to be in, Jack did the only thing he could think of. "C'mere." And he pulled her into a giant hug, ducking his face into her neck while she cried her eyes out.

* * *

**Two weeks later**

"So … what now, Sam?"

Sam dug her spoon into her blue Jell-O. "I've contacted my dad," she said. "I'm going to stay with the Tok'ra for a while till I get my head on straight." She smiled slightly. "I can share intelligence with them about the System Lords and my dad will look after me."

Captain Sam Carter – the strong and capable Air Force officer – was no more. Now she was Sam Carter, plain and simple. And until she knew who Sam Carter was outside the Air Force, she couldn't move forward in her life.

She sniffed, detecting the aroma of apple pie, and smiled suddenly. "I give it … ten minutes before Colonel O'Neill shows up here," she said. The man seemed to have an antenna for pie; preferably apple, with vanilla ice cream.

Janet chuckled. "He's good, but not that good," she said. "He's on Edora at the moment."

"Right," Sam said. "Laira's due to deliver in a few weeks, isn't she?" It felt good to talk about something other than her own problems. "How's the Colonel doing, anyway? I mean … becoming a father again at his age." Not that she was sure of his age – somewhere between forty and dead – but she knew that if Charlie had lived, he would have been in his teens by now. And probably raising hell if he was anything like the Colonel.

Janet smiled. "He's coping well," she said. "And he's happy."

Sam returned the smile. "He deserves it," she said simply. The Colonel had been so good with her the last three weeks. He'd seen her through the horrible withdrawal and its attendant problems. She didn't remember much of those days, but did recall the Colonel holding her through the sickness, mopping her fevered body, letting her rail at him.

Then he'd supported her emotionally as she'd finally talked about the rape. She'd cried for what felt like hours in his arms, and he'd just held her and rocked her. He hadn't made any of those annoying 'Shushing' sounds that people made when they wanted you to stop crying. He'd just held her.

The hard-ass Colonel had a surprisingly soft center and she envied Laira. The Edoran woman knew the love of a good man. Would she ever know love like that?


	6. Chapter 6

**One week later**

"Receiving Tok'ra IDC, sir!" the tech said.

"Well, open it," Jack said impatiently.

The iris opened and two members of the Tok'ra stepped out of the event horizon onto the ramp. Jacob Carter and Yosuf, his two favorite snake-heads – not that he liked that many snakes – looked up at the control room, and Jacob sent a little wave up to Jack.

Jack jogged down the stairs and went into the embarkation room. "Jacob!" he said. "Selmak. Yosuf. Garshaw," he added a little confusedly. "Hi to all of you."

Yosuf and Jacob exchanged amused glances, then Yosuf took his shoulders and planted a warm kiss on each cheek. "It's nice to see you again, Colonel," she said, raising her eyebrows at the sniggers from some of the SFs.

"Nothin' to see here!" Jack snapped. "Get outta here!" The SFs left hurriedly "No respect," he complained in his best Rodney Dangerfield impression. "I get no respect."

Not surprisingly, that was lost on Yosuf. "You are incorrect, Colonel," she said. "You engender much respect; not just from your own, but from Selmak, Garshaw and myself."

Jacob looked around. "Where's Sam?" he asked.

"Ah, just collecting the last of her toys," Jack said. "She'll be here in a couple."

"I hear you're gonna be a father again," Jacob said. "Congratulations."

"Yes, well …". O'Neill smiled. "It's pretty weird at my age, but there ya go." Never thought he'd be changing diapers at forty nine. Just goes to show; life could still surprise you. "And speak of the devil."

He smirked at Carter as she came in with a large box in her hands, followed by several Airmen with trolleys. "Geez, Carter; why not just take the 'gate while you're at it?" he complained.

She returned the smirk. "I'm not under your command any more, Colonel," she said. "D'you really want me to respond to that?"

"Ah … no," Jack said. During the last couple of weeks, Carter had shown herself to have a very sharp – very nasty – sense of humor and had got him a number of times.

He lifted the Velcro covering his watch. Damn; where were the kids? Ah, there they were! The evil doc, Kawalsky, Daniel and Teal'c came in. "The gang's all here, Carter," he said.

Teal'c came over to her. "Samantha Carter; be well," he said. "I will think of you as we fight separately against the false gods." He bowed. "Tek matté."

She stretched upward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Tek ma'tek, Teal'c," she replied.

"Sam; we kinda gave you a hard time when you first joined the SGC," Kawalsky said. "Thought you were gonna be just another feminist super-bitch." He grinned. "I'm glad I was wrong."

Carter chuckled. "I didn't exactly help with that line about reproductive organs," she said. "I was a little … tense back then."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, now she admits it," he said.

"Well, you're a great scientist, a kick-ass soldier … and you're hot," Kawalsky said. "I can tell you that now you can't bring me up on charges."

She coughed. "Hot?"

"Yeah. Still a bit skinny, but get a few pounds on you …".

"Uh … Kawalsky; have you met my dad?" Carter said hurriedly. "Major Charles Kawalsky; Major General Jacob Carter." Evil, evil woman.

Jack had never seen Kawalsky go so white. He snapped up straight and saluted. "Sir!" he said. "No disrespect intended."

Jacob chuckled. "At ease, Major," he said.

"We'll miss you, Sam," Daniel offered, giving her a gentle hug and a soft kiss to the cheek.

"That goes ditto for me, Sam," Fraiser said, glaring at Kawalsky.

The Major took a step backward, holding up his palms in an apologetic gesture. Jack had suspected for a while that his 2IC had a crush on the doc, but he didn't want to know. The Air Force had strict codes on fraternization and while he wasn't big on some rules, that one was pretty damn important.

"Chevron four; encoded!" the tech said from the control room.

Carter looked overwhelmed, then she went white when General Hammond came in. "Sir!" she said.

"George," he said gently. "I'm not your CO any more." He nodded to Jacob – the two were old friends. "Hey, Jake," he added. "Look after this one; she's special."

"I know, George," Jacob said.

"Good luck, Sam; and be happy," Hammond said, patting her shoulder.

"Thank you," Carter nearly whispered.

"Chevron seven; locked!"

The wormhole gushed briefly into the embarkation room, then settled back, shimmering.

"Guess that's my cue," Carter said. She gripped the strap of her duffel tightly and stared at Jack with big eyes.

"Get your butt over here, Carter!" he ordered. She did so and he wrapped his arms round her, ducking his face briefly into her neck. "Remember. You are Sam Carter; you're not a victim."

"I'll miss you, sir," she said.

"I'll miss you too, Carter," he said. He gave her a cheeky grin, trying to lighten the moment. She looked like she was about to burst into tears, and he knew she'd hate that. "You have the best doohickeys on the base."

She spluttered with laughter. "That doesn't sound so good, sir … Jack," she said, sliding out of his embrace and retrieving one of her boxes.

He chuckled. "Come to think of it; you're right," he said. "Well, I never claimed to be good with the words." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "So … see ya, Sam."

She brushed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Bye," she said. Then she stepped up the ramp, paused at the event horizon and turned to look at them one more. She took a deep breath, then turned back and stepped through the 'gate to her new life.

* * *

**One year later**

"Receiving Tok'ra IDC!" Sergeant Harriman said.

"Open the iris, Sergeant," Hammond told him. It had been a year since Sam Carter had left the SGC to live with the Tok'ra and they hadn't heard from her in that time. They'd seen Jacob a few times and he'd indicated that she was doing well, beginning to cope with the traumas inflicted on her body and spirit, but they hadn't actually seen her.

Much had changed in that year.

Major Kawalsky had asked for transfer to the Alpha Site, citing his wish to pursue a relationship with Doctor Fraiser. They'd been together for six months now, and the wedding was set for next year.

Doctor Jackson was involved with a fellow archeologist; a young British woman called Sarah Gardiner. They'd been involved before he joined the SGC and had met again six months ago when Sarah had been briefly taken over by a Goa'uld called Osiris. The Tok'ra had helped remove the Goa'uld, but as a result Sarah had learned all about the Stargate. She now worked at the SGC and was part of Doctor Jackson's research team.

Teal'c had been given permission to live off-base and so far it was going well. There'd been a couple incidents due to his own unswerving code of honor, but his neighbors loved that about him – and he'd built up quite the fan club.

Perhaps the biggest change had occurred in Jack O'Neill's life. Laira had given birth to their baby shortly after Captain Carter had left for Vorash. Unfortunately, she'd died in childbirth, leaving O'Neill to face single parenthood. His little girl was – quite frankly – adorable. Petite and delicate, taking after her mother, but with O'Neill's mischievous brown eyes. And just like her father, she could be cranky and bullheaded. Hammond chuckled at that.

The Colonel had chosen to withdraw from active duty, but had stayed with the SGC as Hammond's 2IC and chief tactical officer. He still went off world on occasion, but was no longer part of a first contact team.

SG-1 – the original SG-1 – was no more. But change comes to everyone, and it was only an idiot who refused to accept change.

* * *

Sam Carter headed along the corridor to the Colonel's after promising to spend some time with her old friends and pushed back her hair. It had grown in the last year, and was nearly at her shoulders now.

She'd missed her friends, but knew that she'd done the right thing by spending time with her dad – she was finally beginning to heal. She knocked softly on the door frame, then poked her head around the open door. "Sir?" she said.

His office – never the neatest place in the world – looked like it had been hit by a Mark Four. Papers were everywhere, toys littered the floor and a playpen stood near his desk.

And the Colonel … He lay back in his leather chair, boots propped up on his desk, unabashedly sleeping. In fact, he was even snoring. One arm dangled while the other supported his little girl on his chest. She was gorgeous. Light brown curls, big brown eyes and sweet dimples. She gurgled happily and wrapped her hand around her daddy's middle finger.

As for the Colonel. He was looking very well. Some more silver had crept into his hair – which was as unruly as ever – but he looked lean, tanned and healthy. And pretty sexy too, she had to admit. She'd always thought him an attractive man, but she only now realized just how gorgeous he actually was. A little older than her, but very … hot.

"Da … da …". The little girl bounced against her father and he woke up with a start.

"Hey, baby," he croaked, his eyes now fully open. Then he grinned. "Hey, Carter!" he said. "Welcome back to Planet Earth."

"Thanks, sir," she said, returning the grin.

"What's it worth for you not to tell anyone about me catching zees at my desk?" he asked.

"Oh, you couldn't afford it, sir," she teased. "No; your secret's safe with me," she added. She nodded to the baby, who was watching her with great big eyes. "What's her name, sir?"

"Jack," he corrected. "For cryin' out loud, Carter – you're not in the Air Force anymore. Call me Jack."

"Then I'm Sam; not Carter," she acquiesced.

"Fair enough." He got up, his daughter now secure on his hip, and stretched his long lean frame. "Anyway, Laira and I wanted to name her after the strongest women we know," he replied. He took one of Sam's hands. "Her first name is Kareen after Laira's mother. And her second … Samantha."

Sam blinked back a tear. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry about Laira," she added.

"Yeah; me too," Jack said. "She would've loved to see Kareen grow up."

His eyes shadowed and she recalled that Jack had missed out on seeing his first child grow up. Taking a leaf from his book, she whispered "Come here" and drew him into a gentle hug, kissing his cheek.

* * *

Jack brushed a soft sweet kiss to her lips and she didn't pull away. "Thanks, Sam," he murmured.

She smiled against his lips, then he became aware of Kareen heading determinedly to the door in her weird half-crawling half-toddling gait. "Whoa there, Houdini!" He jolted out of the chair and scooped up his errant daughter, putting her into her playpen. She began to play with one of her toys as he sat back down. "So … how ya doing really, Sam?" he asked.

"Better," Sam said. "I still have bad days, but I'm starting to get some distance from it." She shrugged.

"That's good," Jack said. He worried his bottom lip. "Uhh … while you're in town, you wanna maybe go out with me?"

"I'd like that … Jack," she replied.

His mouth split into a wide smile. "Cool!" he said, dropping another kiss onto her lips.

He grunted in surprise when she put her hands to the back of his neck and tugged him into a deep passionate kiss, her slim frame pressing up against his larger one. For several long seconds, their tongues parried and clashed and heavy breathing filled the air. Then she pulled back with a final hard kiss to his lips. "Very cool," she said with a smirk.

She got up and sauntered to the doorway. "Eight o'clock tonight – O'Malley's?" she added.

He just nodded, still stunned at the erotic sensations charging through his body. "Yeah," he managed to get out.

Sam walked out, waggling her fingers at him and Kareen in a jaunty farewell and Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat as body parts continued to make themselves known.

"Colonel O'Neill to the briefing room!" the PA blared out.

_Crap. Could the timing be any worse? _He got up and tugged at his jacket, trying to hide his arousal. Thank God for baggy BDUs!

**THE END**


End file.
